


Party Crashing

by nerdinessboundaries



Category: Rant - Chuck Palahniuk, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Death, Blood and Gore, Car Accidents, Character Death, Dreams and Nightmares, Explicit Language, Graphic Description, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi, Rabies, Slow Build, boosting, not actually accidents, pomegranate gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-07 18:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10367169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdinessboundaries/pseuds/nerdinessboundaries
Summary: In a society that's been split between Nighttime and Daytime, Dean and Sam Winchester find themselves caught up in party crashing, new friends, boosting, and some strange circumstances none of them quite understand.This story is focused on the Dean/Cas relationship but there are major moments for Sam/Ruby, Meg/Cas, Ruby/Meg, Sam/Ruby/Meg and some mention of past Dean/Benny. Please notice the Major Character Death tag and take it seriously.





	1. Chapter 1

***

“Dean. Dean!” Dean’s heart pounded in his chest. “Dean! Get up!”  
Dean tore his eyes away from the blood on the ground to look up at his father. John’s eyes were a kind of wild made worse only by the red shining down his front. “Where’s Sammy?!”  
  
Dean looked back at the blood.

 

 ***

 

  
"Mr. Winchester, I'm sorry. We have bad news." Dean said, deepening his voice to mimic the bass tones of the policeman who had come to their door that day. He leaned over the rail of the crib, tippy toes on the bottom rung.  
  
"Your wife," Dean said, voice still comically low for his tiny body, "was part of a team conducting traffic-flow experiments," his tiny tongue tripped over the words that were burned into his mind, "They were involved in a routine incident when the vehicle your wife was driving caught fire."  
  
Dean kicked a leg over the crib railing. He hoisted himself up, over, and lowered himself slowly beside his brother. He lay down next to the baby, the smell of peaches matted into his fine hair. Dad had put them both to bed without a bath. Mom always did baths.  
  
She wasn't here.  
  
Dean sighed, his voice normal, he continued, "Mom got caught inside. She got burned up in the car, Sammy."  
  
Dean rolled onto his side, watching baby Sammy sleep. "Mom died," he said. He rubbed his face against the crib sheet leaving little smears of moisture from his cheeks. He inched closer to his brother. Gently, he laid one arm over the baby. Sammy rustled in his sleep. Dean laid still. He closed his eyes, soothed by little baby snores. When Dean finally fell asleep, he dreamed of heat and not being able to breathe.

 *

Dean usually dozed off riding in the Impala. Today, he fought it. The rumble of the engine, the vibration of the road beneath her wheels a lullaby he refused to heed. He stared out the window focused on the fading sunlight on the buildings as they passed.  
  
The song on the radio faded out, replaced by a clear female speaker.  
  
"The I-SEE-U recruitment program is well underway for positions available on the Nighttime schedule. Benefits for Nighttime include: guaranteed housing, healthcare, and job placement as well as free educational resources and child care.  
  
"The city is expecting one fourth of the population to be transitioned to Nighttime by the end of the year. The five year plan is to have the city split evenly between Day and Night. Contact your local representative for more informa-"  
  
John leaned forward, switching the radio off. "It's segregation all over again," he said. "Shuffling all the poor people to Nighttime so the rich folk on Daytime don't have to look at them. If I had any other option…"  
  
Dean reached over bags of toys and clothes piled between their seats until he could feel Sammy's chubby little fingers. The toddler slept. Dean looked back out the window, watching what he thought would be his last glimpses of daylight.

 *

"It's okay, Dean," John said. "You'll be just fine. Everyone is getting a port, son. You need it for school."  
  
Dean stared at a spot on the wall. He blinked back tears. He ran his fingers over the smooth spot of skin on the back of his neck where the nurse had drawn an 'x'. Dean had seen ports on other kids. At the park, he'd seen a black hole hidden under a little girl's long hair. In school, four other boys already had ports. One had let him touch it. It felt cold.  
  
"Sammy-" John choked on the name. Dean could clearly picture the fear on little Sammy's face when they dropped him off at Night Care, alone, so they could come to the surgery without him. John cleared his throat. "Sammy will get his when he starts school, too."  
  
John blurred. His voice sounded like he was rooms away instead of right by Dean's side. Dean glanced at the bag of fluids hanging by the bedside. He watched the liquid drip, drip, drip into the tube that ran down to his arm.  
  
"Will you have one?" he asked, feeling the pull of sleep.  
  
John nodded. "In a few months."  
  
Dean closed his eyes- allowing the rising tide of sleep to carry him out, begin to pull him under. He felt his father's fingers brushing his forehead. In his mind’s eye, he watched sunlight dance across buildings as he rode in the backseat of the Impala with Sammy’s chubby fingers sticky in his hand.  
  
"In a few months, everyone will have one." John said, his voice faint and very far away. Dean closed his eyes. He watched the fading light reflected off the buildings as they passed then, suddenly, the car lurched, flinging him into darkness.

 *

Dean had his first boost in class. It was simple, a boost his teacher had out-corded of her writing simple multiplication problems on the board. He could see her hand, smell the chalk, and taste stale coffee on his tongue. He felt a distracting ache in his abdomen. He disconnected just a few minutes in, opening his eyes to find his teacher leaning over him. His heart was racing and his breath was shallow and quick.  
  
"You're okay," she soothed, patting his hand. "It's normal to be scared the first time. The boost will always disconnect if you get scared or too excited." She helped him from the floor. Dean looked around to his other classmates, all lying prone, eyes closed. They hadn't gotten scared.  
  
"Why don't you go get some juice and a cookie from the cafeteria?"  
  
Dean rubbed the sweat from his palms onto the thighs of his shorts. "I don't have any money," he said, studying the precise lines and angles formed by the tile floor.  
He felt his teacher's hand on his shoulder. Dean looked up to find her smiling. She pressed a card into his hand.  
  
"Here," she said. "Tell them it's for me."  
  
By the end of the day, Dean could complete the boost. He also memorized the details of his teacher's hand and the answers for every multiple of one through twelve. He swore to never drink coffee.  
  
For homework, the class had been assigned to out-cord a few boosts to their channel.  
  
"I'm going to be looking at the content of your out-cord as well as the technique. I need you to show me that you understand how out-cording works and why it is important to out-cord certain events." Her eyes traveled over each student. Dean waited, curling his fingers into his palms. When her eyes landed on him, he smiled. She smiled in return, the gesture reaching into her eyes then they traveled on to the next kid, smile plastered in place. Dean laid his head down on his desk.

 *

Dean kicked at a rock. He ran a finger along the ridge of his port, feeling the change from soft skin to hard device as his fingertips dragged across the back of his neck. He pressed the out-cord switch, a tiny bump under his skin just beside his port, and kicked the rock again.  
  
"Hey, Dean!"  
  
Dean turned toward the call, still out-cording. He scanned the playground, gauging every shadow cast by the harsh security lighting, 'til he found Sam hanging from the first bar on the monkey bars.  
  
"Watch me!" Sam called. He swung his little body, reaching out for each bar, grasping and swinging again. He dropped from the last bar, turned to Dean and grinned.  
Dean pressed the out-cord switch again, already planning to boost that moment over and over.  
  
He checked his watch. Two hours till sunrise. Three hours 'til Dad gets off work. Four 'til curfew.

 *

Dean dropped his keys in a bowl by the door. He kicked off his shoes while shrugging off his Supermart vest. His shoulders and back ached from pulling pallets of sodas, unloading and shelving cases of sugar packed carbonation all night. He emptied the change from his pockets into a jar on the counter. There was a sticker slapped to the front of the jar that read, "Hello My Name Is SAM COLLEGE". Scribbled in the margin at the bottom in Sam's tiny scrawl was "Daytime, here I come!"  
  
Dean found his father on the couch boosting, probably Big Game Hunter, and still in his work uniform. Sam was lying on his back in the middle of the floor boosting homework. Dean tilted his head to read the case. 'Advanced Data Structures and Algorithms.' Dean shook his head. Of course Sam was boosting extra credit work.  
  
He headed back into the kitchen to try and throw together a meal.

 *

The midday sun was so much brighter than Dean felt it ever should be. He wore dark sunglasses and still needed to squint and shade his eyes. Dean pulled past the college entrance for the second time in ten minutes. He drove slowly, craning his neck, eyes searching the manicured lawns for his lanky, shaggy headed brother.  
  
Dean finally spotted him lounging in the shade of a tree with a few other students. There was a girl lying in the grass beside him with her head resting in his lap. He was lazily dragging his fingers through her long blonde hair.  
  
Dean smiled as he passed by. He turned out of the parking area towards home. He prayed he wouldn't get caught out past curfew today. He already had three infractions. They were worth the penalty to see Sam but he really, really didn't want that fourth one.

 *

Dean watched her feet sinking into the sand as the waves pooled up around her delicate ankles. Dean felt it as she dug her toes into the sand. He felt each grain against the soles of her feet. He felt young. He felt happy. He felt empty of anything other than the contentment of wiggling his toes in the sand and dancing on the beach in the sun. She skipped along the beach, swinging a little bucket at her side, and Dean skipped with her. The ocean breeze gentle and salty on her skin. Dean felt it. When she licked her lips, Dean tasted it. When she caught a little sand crab and tossed it into her bucket, laughing, Dean floated in her joy.  
  
Little Becky's Day at the Beach might be Dean's favorite boost. Ever. He could boost Running with the Bulls or Sky Flyers or Party! in the Dark but nine times out of ten, he'd choose Little Becky's Day at the Beach.  
  
It was such an easy boost. Relaxing. Sometimes, he'd come in from work and strip down to his underwear, lie on the floor and boost Little Becky's Day at the Beach until well past the curfew alarm.  
  
He'd disconnected just a few minutes in with Running with the Bulls AND Sky Flyers. He didn't need that much excitement after working a full shift. Little Becky's toes in the warm ocean water and her laugh, void of any adult concerns, was perfect for him.  
  
Dean heard the curfew alarm in the distance, faint, like it was sounding from miles and miles away. Little Becky didn't turn her head towards it. She ran her fingers through her sea salt matted hair and giggled. Dean felt the pull of her fingers through her hair. He felt the texture of the drying sea salt against her fingers.  
He waited, knowing his favorite part was coming soon.  
  
Becky walked along the beach, Dean walking with her, until she came to a spot in the sand that looked like every other spot along the beach. She lay down and closed her eyes. Dean could feel the heat of the sand along her back. He could feel the pressing heat of the sun prickling along her stomach and thighs. She relaxed listening to the waves lapping against the beach. She sighed, perfectly happy. Perfectly content. Perfectly perfect.  
  
Dean sighed. He disconnected.  
  
He blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim artificial lighting of the apartment. He pulled the little cylinder from his port. He slid it into a small case then sat it up on the coffee table beside him. He sat up from the floor, slowly, allowing his body to catch up to reality. Dean's head swam for a moment. He gripped the edge of the table, steadying himself. When he felt stable again, he stood.  
  
He knew immediately that he was still alone in the apartment. Dad had gone to work just like every night. He should have been home an hour before the curfew alarm. He should have been slumped into the couch boosting some Haunted Mansions or Stalking the Yeti.  
Dad never missed curfew.  
  
Dean paced the living room. He went into the kitchen and moved things around in the fridge, telling himself he'd make some dinner, but he closed it again without getting anything out to eat.  
  
Two hours past curfew. Dean called the Nighttime Emergency Room. The receptionist kindly informed him that he was calling after hours. She also informed him that they did not have a patient named John Winchester.  
  
Dean paced the kitchen. He went to his bedroom, telling himself he'd try and get some sleep, but he ended up tossing and turning until he gave up and got out of bed again.  
Six hours past curfew. Dean called the Daytime Emergency Room. The receptionist kindly informed him of the number for the Nighttime Emergency Room. She also informed him that they did not have a patient named John Winchester, either.  
  
Dean gathered his blanket and carried it to the couch. He laid down and tried to sleep before his shift that night.

 *

The pretty blonde girl opened the door before Dean could even knock. He froze, hand poised where the door should be, while she glanced him over.  
"Ugh." She slouched against the door frame, one hand held out to prop the door open.  
  
Dean shifted. He thought to push his sunglasses up on top of his head. He dropped his hand to his side.  
  
"Hi. I'm-"  
  
"You're Nighttime, yeah. I can see that." She crinkled her nose as she spoke.  
  
Dean suddenly felt she wasn't that pretty after all.  
  
"I need to see Sam." He dropped his voice slightly. He thought it helped him sound official.  
  
She laughed.  
  
"Jess, who's there?" Dean heard Sam from inside the dorm.  
  
"Nobody," she called back, smiling, as she began to push the door shut.  
  
"Sammy!" Dean called into the apartment. His voice sounded authoritative even to himself. Within seconds, Sam stood behind Jess.  
  
"Dean? Hey! What're you doing here? It's only like..." Sam checked his watch. "It's only five p.m. You're breaking curfew! Get in here!" Sam pulled Dean in the dorm room by his jacket.  
  
Dean looked up at his little brother. His hair streaked blonde from sun exposure. His skin darker hues than he'd ever had before. His eyes dancing with life.  
Dean glanced at Jess.  
  
"We need to talk," he said, eyes sliding back to settle on Sam.  
  
"Okay, what's up?" Sam propped himself against the hallway wall.  
  
Dean noticed a sweet smile tugging at the corners of his brother's mouth. Dean glanced back at Jess. She cocked her hip out, crossing her arms in reply.  
  
"It's okay, Dean. Whatever it is. You can tell both of us."  
  
"Sammy," Dean paused, his thoughts caught on the framed academic achievement certificates hanging on the wall, each with Sam's name in prominent gold lettering. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days."  
  
"What?"  
  
"He didn't come home from work. Three days ago. I've called the hospitals. I've called his job. No one's seen him. He just disappeared."  
  
"You're shitting me." Sam's smile widened. "This is a joke."  
  
"No. I found Baby parked at his job. There's no surveillance footage of him leaving. He went into work that night and never came back out."  
  
"Dean?"  
  
"They don't know where he is, Sammy."  
  
"Dean, this isn't funny."  
  
"I know." Dean shifted again, swaying his weight from one foot to the other. Dean watched as Sam cradled his face in his hands.  
  
Sam drew in a quick, deep breath. "What do we do?" He asked.  
  
"We go look for him. Tonight. After the curfew alarm. Nighttime."  
  
Sam hung his head. "I can't break curfew, Dean. I'll lose my scholarship."  
  
"Then we don't get caught." Dean said, a hint of mischief hanging to his words.  
  
Sam looked to Jess. Her face was a perfect display of disbelief.  
  
"You can't go," She said, shaking her head. "You can't break curfew."  
  
"But it's my Dad.”  
  
"Sam Winchester! You have a final tomorrow! You can't do this!"  
  
"You could come with us," Dean offered.  
  
"Oh, no," she said, looking between the brothers. "I'm not breaking curfew! Not tonight! Not any night but especially not tonight. It's party night."  
  
The only parties Dean cared about were the ones he could boost from the comfort of his apartment. Sam seemed just as confused.  
  
Jess threw her hands into the air. She turned and walked out of the room. Dean heard a door slam.  
  
His eyes met Sam's, a moment he later wished he had out-corded, and they shrugged in unison.  
  
"So... Let's go?"  
  
Sam sighed, his shoulders heaved with the effort.  
  
"I have to be back by two. Jess is right. I need to sleep before my final." He said, looking up at Dean.  
  
"I promise. Back by two. Sleep. Final."  
  
Sam breathed deep and held it.  
  
"Let's go?" Dean asked, again.  
  
"Yeah," Sam said, releasing the breath. He peeled himself away from the wall, gaining nearly a foot in height. "Let's go."

 *

Dean counted fourteen VW Beetle's in the last six blocks. Every single one flashed their lights at him.  
  
Sam pointed as they crawled past a beautiful, shining, black piece of vehicular history. "Is that a Firebird?"  
  
"Yeah." Dean nodded. He swallowed hard.  
  
He turned down an avenue where they saw a beat-to-hell Stingray and a primer grey Mustang idling at the traffic light ahead.  
  
"What... What the hell is going on?" Sam asked.  
  
Dean shrugged. "Keep looking for Dad. He could be in any of these alleyways."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah." Sam said, his eyes still on the Mustang.  
  
Dean eased the Impala to a stop. He tapped his fingers across the top of the steering wheel. He glanced over at Sam, catching his younger brother smiling. The streetlight filtering in through the windshield splashed across him. Dean reached up, running his hand through his hair, down to the back of his neck. He switched his port to out-cord. His channel was full of little stolen moments of his brother.  
  
"Sammy."  
  
Sam turned to him. Dean felt a lift in his chest, almost like the lift he felt in Little Becky when she would laugh at the beach.  
  
"I missed this," Sam said.  
  
Dean smiled. "Me, too.”  
  
Dean noticed the traffic light had changed. The cars ahead of him had already pulled through but he didn't see them ahead. He glanced around the empty street. As far as he could see in any direction, they were completely alone when just moments before the streets had been crawling with older model cars.  
  
"Are you seeing this?" Dean asked. He heard a hum from Sam. He crept through the intersection, down the block and stopped at the next traffic light.  
  
"Something feels wrong, Dean." Sam swiveled in his seat, looking out the rear window.  
  
"Yeah, you're telling m-" Baby shook from impact, a horrible grating sound filled the inside of the car. Dean turned to see a steel blue Chevy Nova tearing down the street away from them, a black streak of Baby's paint on the front passenger bumper. "What the fuck was that?!"  
  
Before Dean could unbuckle, Sam grabbed his shoulder, “Dean!” as a dirty yellow VW Bug rear ended them, throwing both men forward into their seat belts. Dean felt the pressure across his hips and he was 6 years old again. The fear in the pit of his stomach boiling bile to the back of his throat. His mind telling him he smells blood, a flash of his father, wet and red, sitting on the asphalt. his mind supplies 20 year old cries, perfectly preserved, ringing in his ears. Dean gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white.  
  
He stomped the gas, peeling out and through the intersection even though the light was still red.  
  
"Dean! Behind us! My side!" Sam barked, bracing himself.  
  
Dean swerved, but not quick enough, the mint green '57 Chevy caught Baby's rear bumper, sending her into a spin. When she stopped, Dean realized he had instinctively shot out his right arm to hold Sam into his seat while they spun.  
  
"Oh, that's it!" Dean said, revving Baby.  
  
"Dean? Dean! No!" Sam gripped his seat belt in both hands. Dean hit the gas, propelling them forward, driving Baby's grill into the passenger door of the Chevy. It sent the car skidding sideways, every person inside wearing the 'O' face of shock.  
  
Baby stalled upon impact. Dean watched the driver of the Chevy unbuckle, climb out of the car, and circle around in front of it. She was shaking.  
  
Good, Dean thought. He wanted to scare her. Then he noticed her fists balled up by her thighs. He glanced at Sam, his brother still held tight to the seat belt where it met his chest, his jaw hanging slack. "Stay in the car, Sammy."  
  
Sam nodded, eyes fixed on the Chevy. Dean worried briefly if Sam was even seeing what he was looking at.  
  
Dean opened his door. Baby creaked, her body leaning on her chassis in a way that worried Dean more than Sam's possible vision problems.  
  
"What the fuck was that?!" the Chevy driver screamed as she stomped up to him.  
  
"Exactly!" Dean yelled, leaning to get right in her face.  
  
She had fierce smears of gold eyeliner smudged under her eyes that brought out the golden streaks in her iris. She side stepped him completely, rounding behind Baby, one hand pushing a wild mess of black and golden ringlets away from her face.  
  
"I'm reporting you! That was such a shitty foul!" She had her phone out, dialing, staring at Baby's license plate.  
  
Dean's mind reeled, "No, no. Oh, man, don't call the cops." Dean paused, "Wait! You hit me first!"  
  
"I flirted with you!"  
  
"That's how you flirt?!"  
  
She stopped, looked up at Dean. Her shoulders tightened. "Wait. You're a party crasher, right?"  
  
Dean stared, unable to make sense of that combination of the words in this situation.  
  
She walked to him, fingers dragging over the deep gash along Baby's side.  
  
"Please, please, please tell me you're playing." She said, gauging his reaction to her words.  
  
Dean must have looked as confused as he felt.  
  
"Fuck," She breathed. "Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" She turned and stormed back to her own car.  
  
"Wait! What's a 'party crasher'?" Dean called after her. "And what about my car?!"  
  
She paused as she climbed into the driver's seat, calling over the hood of her car, "Call Tina Something." She ducked into her car, gesturing wildly to the other passengers, threw it into reverse and backed down the street to the intersection, backed into a turn and sped forward.  
  
Dean shook his head, raked his fingers through his hair, his hand coming to a rest on his neck. He felt the out-cording switch and flipped it off.  
  
He glanced around the now empty street. He climbed back into Baby.  
  
"What was that? What's going on?" Sam asked.  
  
"I don't know, man," Dean said, cranking Baby, "but I got something at home you need to boost."  
  
"What about Dad?"  
  
"I really don't think it's safe to drive around tonight." Dean said.  
  
Sam sat back content to drop the subject. Dean noticed he still had a tight grip on his seat belt. Dean reached for his own, pulled it across, clicked it then slowly, cautiously, drove back to his apartment.  
  
They didn't have another incident.

 

 ***

 

"On your left! Seven o'clock!"  
  
Dean cranked Baby left, aimed to angle down a side alley before she received any new damage. As Baby's tail swung wide for the corner, cans dragging along behind her bumper, her inhabitants were slung to the side as a highlighter pink Geo Metro tagged her right bumper, hard. He shot down the alley, pulled her behind a dumpster, driver's side hugging the brick of the building, and switched off the headlights. The sounds of ragged breathing filled the car. That and the mix cd Dean had made especially for tonight. Billy Idol's White Wedding hummed through the speakers.  
  
"Get out of the fuckin' car, newbie." Dean said, turning to the fresh faced youth sitting rear passenger.  
  
"Really, Dean?" Ruby quipped from behind him. Dean raised a finger, shushing her. Ruby sat back in her seat, arms folded across her chest, glaring.  
  
"That was your quadrant." Dean spoke directly to the youth. "I didn't hear a peep from you and now I'm gonna be two weeks beating and buffing that dent out of the bumper."  
  
Dean watched him rustle in his cheap, sun bleached, thrift shop gown. It wasn't even an "antique" white but closer to a been-hanging-in-the-closet-of-a-chain-smoker white.  
"And your dress is a piece of shit," Dean added.  
  
"Fuck you, Winchester," his southern drawl elongated each word.  
  
"Out," Dean snapped.  
  
Ruby patted the young man's arm then nodded. “Go on, Cy.” She added, gently.  
  
Cyrus exited the car, stepped into the alleyway, skirts swishing around his ankles, and slammed his door.  
  
"God damn it!" Dean yelled, watching the guy flip him off as he strutted down to the street to catch another team short a player.  
  
As he turned, Dean found himself on the receiving end of Sam's bitch face. Dean shrugged, settled back, and stared out the windshield. He noticed Sam look back and could feel the silent conversation between his brother and Ruby. They did that sometimes. Like two parents locking eyes above the head of their child who is having a screaming tantrum in the middle of the mall. Dean ignored it. He tolerated Ruby because she made Sam happy and outside of that, he didn't feel responsible for her in any way. In fact, the moment Sammy got tired of her, Dean planned to rip down those pictures of her that Sam had pinned to the ceiling above his bed and burn them, just like he had with Jess. Jess and her sun kissed skin and rotten attitude. Dean celebrated the day she broke up with Sam even though she was a chicken shit and did it through a text.  
  
I CAN'T DATE A NIGHTTIMER, she'd sent.  
  
YOU THREW AWAY YOUR SCHOLARSHIP, she'd sent  
  
YOUR BROTHER IS A FUCKING LOSER, she'd sent  
  
Well, that fucking loser helped his brother rip all your pictures up and set them on fire in the bathroom trashcan.  
  
Dean watched as a yellow Subaru with " JUST MARRIED" scrawled across the length of the vehicle crept past the mouth of the alley way. Sweat trickled down his back, mingling with the tulle in his skirt and caused his skin to itch. God damn tulle. Dean shifted in his seat, pulled the full silk skirt up off his thighs and tugged the under skirt of tulle down. It kept bunching up under him. At least this one had sequins across the chest and it fit him well, which was always a perk.  
  
"Dean, you're gonna get pulls in the material doing that." Ruby said from the back seat. "If you want that dress to last for another Wedding Night, you need to be gentle with the silk."  
  
"Mind your own gown." He said, eyes in the rear view mirror. Ruby's looked more like a prom dress from the early '90's than a wedding gown. Puffy sleeves. Short skirt. High waist. Atrocious amounts of lace and nonsense buttons.  
  
"Girls, settle down," Sam said, adjusting his own veil. "You're both pretty."  
  
Ruby huffed. "Next time I'll stay home."  
  
"No, you won't," Dean eased Baby down the darkened alleyway. "We need someone to cover the back."  
  
"If you weren't such an ass, you'd be able to keep people in the back and I could stay home."  
  
Dean pulled a quick stop, tossing Ruby and Sam forward. He turned in his seat, twisting as far as his seat belt would allow, "You shut your whore mouth."  
  
"Dean!" Sam chided, pushing Dean back into his seat, steady hands on the exposed skin of Dean's shoulder, "You can't talk to her like that!"  
  
"The hell I can't." Dean said. He released the break, easing the Impala into the slant of light at the mouth of the alley before pulling to a stop. He leaned onto the steering wheel, craning his neck to see around the buildings. The street was empty of players. Dean cut a look to Sam only to catch his brother sitting stiff, facing out the window. Well, shit.  
  
"Ruby?" Dean said, watching his brother closely.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He glanced in the rear view mirror. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, still, shoulders pushed back into the seat, staring out her window. Her dress was wrinkled across her lap. Dean noticed one of the bags of rice in the open basket of the center of the back seat looked like it had been picked at.  
  
"You okay?" He asked.  
  
She said, "Fine," still staring out at the brick wall.  
  
Sam was rubbing the knuckles of his hand refusing to meet Dean's eyes. Dean shook his head, rubbed his palms on the steering wheel, glanced down the empty street and pulled out, turning left.  
  
Later, Dean would say it felt like time slowed down when he caught sight of the blur of motion in the corner of his eye. What actually happened was a little Hyundai with both headlights already smashed out and a front bumper covered in a rainbow of paint from other cars slammed into Baby's driver's side door with enough force to send the car skidding sideways. Seat belts automatically tightening. Dean and Ruby bashed against their side windows. Sam's torso, neck, head, slinging into that space between him and Dean. Then as the car faltered to a stop, all three jerking the opposite direction, rice flying through the air.  
  
Dean was knocked unconscious the moment his head made contact with the window.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Castiel enters the story

***

Dean could feel the rumble of the Impala under his thighs. A woman’s voice filled the car then suddenly shut off.  "It's segregation all over again," he heard his father say. "Shuffling all the poor people to Nighttime so the rich folk on Daytime don't have to look at them. If I had any other option…"

Dean reached over bags of toys and clothes piled between the seats until he could feel Sammy's chubby little fingers. The toddler slept. Dean looked back out the window, watching what he thought would be his last glimpses of daylight.

Sammy’s fingers were sticky in Dean’s hand. He sighed, eyes settling unfocused on reflections of the evening sunlight in the windows of the buildings as they passed. Sammy breathed in little snores. Dean smiled to himself. As long as he had Sammy, it’d be okay. As long as they were together, he’d be fine. He might have lost Mom, and he might be losing the sun, but he’d never lose his brother. Not Sammy.

“WHA-” John’s voice punctured his thoughts.  
  


 ***

 

It was dark and Dean was tired. His entire body ached but his neck and back throbbed. He felt his shoulders being jerked forward then pushed back before he processed the sounds being hissed into his ear as words.

"Hey. Hey! Come on, wake up. You have to get up." A deep breathy voice Dean didn't recognize.

He worked to push his way out of the fog of sleep. His eyes fluttered open and he winced. The room was dimly lit. He could just make out the outline of a person leaning over him. He turned his head, a fresh wave of pain shooting through his body. He groaned and immediately felt a hand clasped over his mouth.

"Shhh shhh shhh shh!"

Dean was lying down, rails on the bed, a curtain hanging beside his bed. Hospital. He blinked, rapidly, as he tried to remember how he'd gotten here.

"We have to get you out of here. Now." The shadow above him whispered, barely audible. "Quietly," he said pressing his hand against Dean's lips. Dean nodded.

Dean felt nimble fingers pulling at his arm removing his IV. His mind raced, trying to keep up. He tried to sit up and his head swam with the movement. He leaned left as the room tilted around him. Dean felt strong arms wrap around his shoulders, scruff rubbing against his neck.

"Slowly," the voice breathed. "I mean, we need to move quickly but..."

Dean cocked his head. He could hear voices beyond the curtain.

"Tell me where Winchester is!" Dean couldn't place the voice but he knew it wasn't Sammy.

He heard female voices arguing over the harsh deeper tones.

"We have to go now. Come on." Dean watched as the man shrugged off a coat. The man tossed it around Dean, directing him to put it on. Then Dean felt himself being lifted from the bed, his muscles screaming displeasure. The man beside him hooked Dean's arm across his shoulders, gripping Dean's hand tightly. He waited till Dean was steady on his feet then supported him past the curtain and out an open door into a brightly lit hallway. Dean noticed he was wearing only a hospital gown under the man's beige trench coat.

Great.

The man hurried Dean along the corridor, looking back over his shoulder the entire way. They could clearly hear the rising commotion behind them.

"Winchester! Where?! I'm gonna kill him!"

 

Dean began to move a little quicker, hobbling, leaning on the man beside him. Dean noticed the man was wearing a suit, ill fitting, with the top button of his shirt undone and his tie hanging awkwardly loose.

"This way," The man said, turning Dean toward a stairwell.

"You're fucking kidding me." Dean rasped, his throat dry and sore. It hurt more than he expected.

"They'll be waiting at the elevators. Trust me. This leads to the alley exit."

Dean grunted, holding in every scream that threatened to escape with each step the man helped him descend.

Two flights down, the man opened a door that lead directly outside and, as promised, into a shaded alleyway. They ducked out, the man pulling Dean flush against the wall. Dean tried not to think about what he was feeling under his bare feet. They edged along the wall, Dean's face twisted into a grimace as he tried to keep himself quiet. The brick of the building against his back dug in through the coat and he worried about ripping it as they moved.

They made it to the sidewalk, Dean shielded his eyes from the harsh morning glow. The man pulled Dean in a hobbled run, checking over his shoulder every so often. The man's coat fluttered up behind Dean as they moved. The crisp morning air nipped at his exposed skin, causing him to break out in goose bumps. They reached a cross walk. Dean gasped, a white hot pain shooting up his back.

The man glanced back.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. They're coming out the front entrance." He said, tugging Dean's arm, readjusting his grip. "This way." He turned Dean down the sidewalk. They made it about half way down the block before they heard loud banter at the cross walk they'd just left.

"Let me find him!" That same voice, echoed off the buildings. "I'll destroy Dean Winchester!" Laughter erupted from the group.

"Here. Right here. Go." The man lead Dean to a house and around to the side where he kicked at a lock on the cellar door. He lifted the door, helping Dean down the steps then climbed in himself and quietly pulled the door closed behind them.

Dean lowered himself onto the compacted dirt floor, muscles he didn't remember having ached and throbbed. He gasped as he sat, propping his back against the cinder block wall. He looked to the man still at the cellar door, eyes closed and ear cocked beside it, a stream of early morning sunlight pouring in from a crack where the top of the door didn't quite meet the full size of the opening. Dean studied him for a moment. The man looked like he had just rolled out of bed himself, although, not a hospital bed. His hair was short but sticking up in odd directions. He had at least a week of scruff growing on his chin and cheeks. His suit looked like he'd slept in it, the material rumpled and wrinkled.

After a moment, the man opened his eyes, meeting Dean's. Dean's breath caught in his chest. Dean turned away, coughed. He looked back to see the man stepping down from the cellar's exit. Dean pulled the front of the beige coat closed. The man sat across from him.

"I don't hear them but we'd be safer to stay here," the man said, his eyes shining bright blue in the faint filtered light.

Safe. Dean almost laughed. He leaned forward to clutch at his chest, the bubble of emotion causing pain around his ribs.

"Who... who are you?"

"Ah," the man leaned closer to Dean. He smiled, an inhuman sparkle dancing in the blue of his eyes, laugh lines gathered up around them. "I'm the one who gripped you tight and saved your life, from the looks of things."

Dean shifted back against the wall.

"Funny."

The man smiled. "I'm Castiel.”

Dean snorted, laughing, arms clutching his chest again.

"Alright, Cas," he said. "What's going on? Why was I in the hospital? Where's Sam? Why does that guy want to kill me?" Dean paused, thinking. "No, I don't care about the last one."

"Well, What's going on is we are currently sitting under what looked like an old-ass house in a cramped kind of half basement that smells of mold and moth balls and moist earth. It is..." He checked his watch, "twenty minutes till curfew."

"Okay." Dean waved his hand, encouraging Cas to continue.

"Where Sam is, I don't know. I don't know who Sam is." Cas shrugged.

"He's my brother. Sam Winchester."

Cas thought. "He wasn't a patient tonight."

Dean nodded, relieved.

"And you were brought to the hospital via Emergency Services. You were involved in a broadside collision. You came in unconscious with multiple minor injuries. In short, you're bruised from head to toe but, blessedly, nothing to cause long lasting harm."

"You're a doctor?"

"Me? No. No. I'm an, uh, attendant." Cas said, finding the seam in the leg of his pants very interesting, suddenly.

"An attendant?"

"Yeah. I'm... uhm. My job is to walk around and check in on every patient periodically to, uh, make sure they're still alive."

"You're a heart monitor?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I guess." Cas shifted until he was sitting knees out, legs crossed, with his feet tucked under his thighs. "I'm cheaper than the machine."

Dean shook his head, smiling.

"I also sit with people who are alone and unconscious or dying and hold their hand." Cas said without raising his eyes. "So they don't feel like they are alone."

Dean's throat went dry.

"So you were in my room...?"

"Yeah." Cas said, his fingers pulling at the hem of his pants.

Dean rubbed his hands together, thinking. "Thank you."

Cas lifted his eyes to meet Dean's. Dean felt something in his chest that reminded him of Little Becky, lying on the sand, sprawled out in the sun.

"I was in your room with you when I heard the guys at the nurse's station. I checked your file, to be sure, and knew I had to get you out of there. They were going to discharge you once you woke up anyway. You don't have Daytime insurance," Cas said.

"I don't know who he was. I don't know why he was after you," Cas scooted closer to Dean, "Do you remember anything, yet?"

"No," Dean rubbed his forehead, wincing at his own touch. He refused to even wonder how he looked if he felt this awful. He yawned, an action that sent waves of pain shooting through various parts of his body.

Cas checked his watch. "Nothing to do but sleep. We're here til curfew."

"Yeah," Dean said, resting his head against the wall. "I've got too many infractions already. You could go, if you need to," Dean offered, realizing that Cas may be looking for a polite way to leave.

Cas narrowed his eyes. "No. I think I'll stay," he said.

Cas pulled himself up on his knees, closer to Dean, a hand on either side of Dean, hovering over him almost. He used one hand to dig into the pocket of his coat, pulling out a small prescription bottle. He sat back, opened the bottle and poured two pills out into his hand. He held them out to Dean.

"Here. It'll help with the pain. They were on your bedside table."

Dean nodded. He took the pills, catching them with his fingers. He felt a buzz in his fingertips as they brushed against Castiel's palm. He popped the pills in his mouth, tried to swallow them dry but his mouth was already so dry that he couldn't. They lay on his tongue uselessly. He sighed, annoyed.

Cas fiddled with his shirt, then leaned forward, offering Dean something in his hand. Dean saw a plain white button resting in his palm.

"Suck on this, "Cas said, "It'll help stimulate your mouth to produce saliva."

Dean accepted the button. He pulled the pills from his tongue and popped the button into his mouth. He tried to suck.

"Treat it like candy." Cas encouraged.

Dean moved the button around in his mouth, trying it in different places. Finally, bits of moisture sprung from under his tongue. He popped the pills into his mouth and hurried to swallow them with the tiny amount of spit he'd built up, making sure to cheek the button.

"There you go." Cas smiled. He crawled across, settling himself beside Dean.

"Try and sleep," he said, gently patting the back of Dean's hand.

"I'll watch over you." Cas said.

"That's creepy," Dean said but he rested his head against the wall behind him. He closed his eyes, rolling the button on his tongue, and he realized how Cas had left his hand covering his, the weight of it a reassuring pressure. He heard Cas humming but it didn't take long for Dean to fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

***

Sammy’s fingers were sticky in Dean’s hand. John had given Sam a sucker as he’d buckled him in. “Maybe this’ll keep him quiet,” John had told Dean as he unwrapped the sucker. Thankfully, it had. Now, Sammy breathed in little snores. Dean smiled to himself. As long as he had Sammy, it’d be okay. As long as they were together, he’d be fine. He might have lost Mom, and he might be losing the sun, but he’d never lose his brother. Not Sammy.

“WHA-” John’s voice filled the car as the seat belt tightened around Dean’s waist, trying to hold him in the back seat even as the back seat seemed to try and throw him forward. His hand was pulled from Sammy’s, slung forward with his chest, his head slammed into the back of his father’s seat.

It was silent and he was slumped into his own lap. Dean’s head felt heavy and his ears rang. He looked over to Sammy, thankfully strapped into his seat, kicking his legs, lips spread wide, eyes squinched, face red. Dean recognized his screaming without hearing it and then recognized the clawing in his own throat as screams as well. 

***

 

Dean woke confused and sore to the curfew alarm blaring. He tried to move and quickly realized that he was lying on the ground. He forced himself to lay still and think. He sucked on the button, swallowed, then shifted it to his other cheek.

Ah, that's right. Wreck. Hospital. Angry man. Being dragged by another man. Coat. Cellar. Pain pills.

Dean opened his eyes, glancing around the small area. Cas was sitting with his back against the wall, head slumped to his chest, legs out. Dean, could see him clearly because Dean's head was laying in Castiel's lap. Cas had one arm cradled between his body and Dean. The other had fallen to the floor just beside Dean. Dean noticed his own hand laying inches from Castiel's.

Dean felt Little Becky running, salty air sticking to her cheeks.

Dean lay, studying Castiel's features. He wanted to remember every tiny detail from the fullness of his cheeks to the texture of his hair. He was admiring the man's hairline when Dean remembered the wreck, and the moments before it. He remembered Sam and Ruby. The memory startled him. He tried to sit up but only managed to groan with the effort. He felt as Cas stirred, watched as his eyes fluttered open. Cas raised his arms above his head, stretching, yawning. Even as Castiel's legs moved in the stretch, shifting under Dean's shoulders, neck and head, Dean tried to move his hand quickly to the back of his neck to hit the out-cord switch. His view of Cas from the stretching man's lap was heavenly. Cas looked down, catching Dean in the movement. Dean lifted his fingers to his mouth instead, removing the button. Dean offered it to him and Cas laughed.

"Hey," He smiled down at Dean.

"Hey," Dean replied, slipping the button into the coat pocket.

"How are you feeling?" Cas asked, lowering his hands, one coming to rest just beside Dean's shoulder. The other casually brushed through Dean's hair.

"Sore," Dean said. "Can you help me get up? I need to get home."

"Yeah. Yeah." Cas said, sliding out from under Dean's head and shoulders. "What's up?" He asked, pushing Dean from behind into a sitting position. Cas knelt beside Dean, pulling Dean's arm over his shoulder again, before helping him stand.

Dean grunted, his breath quick. Being hurt sucked.

"I remember the wreck." He said once he was on his feet with Cas tucked under his arm. He felt safe with that warmth pressed into his side.

"Oh?" Cas said, helping Dean move to the steps.

"My brother and his girlfriend were in the car with me. I need to get home and see if they're okay."

"What is Sam's girlfriend's name?" Cas asked and Dean spent a moment appreciating that Cas had remembered Sam's name.

"Ruby Cortese."

Cas tilted his head. "No. No, She wasn't a patient either. They must have been okay enough to turn down services or either went to a different hospital."

"You know every patient?" Dean asked as he allowed Cas to basically carry him up the steps.

"I read the white boards. I read charts when I check in on people." Cas said. "I'm good with names."

Dean nodded. He stopped as they stepped out onto the grass. He drew a deep breath, allowing the fresh night air to clear out all the dank of the cellar.

"Cas, I'm gonna need a minute over there with that tree." He said, gesturing to a spindly sapling growing at the edge of the yard.

Cas lead him without a word. Within spitting distance of the tree, he ducked out from under Dean's arm, made sure Dean could stand and support himself, then turned his back.

Dean tested his balance, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He seemed fine enough even if his back and shoulders did ache. He lifted the hospital gown, aimed and relieved himself.

"Don't piss on my coat, please?" Cas said. Dean snickered despite himself.

He shook dry, dropped his gown, then buttoned the coat closed. He turned to Cas, impressed with how well he was moving. The more he stretched and moved, the easier it became.

"Good," Cas said. "My turn."

Dean turned away, allowing Cas the same degree of privacy he'd given Dean. Dean scanned the street, the buildings, the homes. He smiled as Castiel's stream seemed to last for an inordinately long time. Finally finished, Cas turned.

"Alright," he said. "Which way is home?" He was still messing with his pants, buttoning and zipping. Dean's thoughts snagged on the movement of Castiel's hands as he tugged his zipper up.

"Uh, that way." Dean gestured down the street.

"Can you walk?" Cas asked.

Dean tried and, though he walked with a limp and a sharpness in his upper back, he could walk on his own.

"You don't have to walk me home." 

"Please." Cas said, smiling.

They walked in silence, mostly, with Dean hobbling along in his borrowed trench coat with bare feet and Cas walking casually beside him. Dean realized they were miles from his apartment and desperately wished he had his wallet with his transport card but it was in the pocket he'd sewn into his wedding dress that he assumed was at the hospital.

"How'd you get Nighttime?" Dean asked. They ambled past a brightly lit gas station that boasted No Corn In OUR Gas!

"Applied when I was sixteen." Cas said. "I applied. They asked me why I wanted to be Nighttime. I told them I wanted to help people. They laughed, stamped my paperwork, and sent me out to my apartment. You?"

"Been Nighttime my whole life." Dean said. "We switched before I started school. Dad was in with some of the first. We were a Pioneer Family."

They walked quietly for a block. Dean glanced at his companion but Cas showed no discomfort with traveling without a word being said between them.

"You got family?" Dean asked, unable to handle it.

"I left them Daytime." Cas said.

"Any reason?" Dean felt like he was pulling teeth.

"They're all crazy." Cas said, scuffing his shoes against the sidewalk. "We're a big family. I have thirteen full siblings."

Dean whistled.

"That's not the best part," Cas continued. "I have over a hundred half siblings."

"No way."

"My Dad, the man has fifteen wives. A hundred and thirty kids. We lived out on a huge ranch. We had our own little community. I didn't know any different until I had to leave to get a job." Cas glanced up at Dean. "Imagine me coming out into the city and finding out my dad isn't God."

"God?" Dean choked back a laugh.

"That's what the moms told us. The old man was God. We were his angel children. Hence the name. Most of us are named after heavenly host. Gabriel. Ezekiel. Raphael, he's a dick. You think of an angel, I've got a sibling with that name."

"Lucifer?" Dean asked, a sly smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Cas nodded. "He's grown by now. His mom died during his birth. Dad set him out on the front porch after, hoping the night air would kill him, but some of us older kids bundled him up. Anna slept on the porch with him. Dad found them the next morning, Anna with her body wrapped around the newborn. He spat the name 'Lucifer' then he turned and stomped back inside. It's funny. Luce loved Dad so fiercely..." Cas trailed off.

Dean didn't know what to say. They walked a few blocks each in their own thoughts. Every so often, Cas would reach out to help steady Dean. As they walked, Cas was mindful of where Dean would be stepping, walking a half step ahead of him and kicking debris from the sidewalk.

Dean felt Little Becky's toes grip the sand.

"... But I left," Cas said, as if a half hour of silence hadn't passed between them. "I left and as far as I know, I'm the only one Nighttime. You've got your Dad and brother, though. That's good."

"I've got my brother. Dad..." Dean searched for the right word. He finally settled on saying, "isn't around."

Cas nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss."

They walked in silence again. As they approached the apartment, Dean was walking slower, hoping to drag out his time with Cas. Finally, as they got closer to his door, Dean had to say something or risk passing it and needing to circle back, which would look just as desperate as Dean felt.

"This is us." Dean said, tilting his head.

"I'll follow you." Cas said, without a thought, and Dean relaxed. He keyed the entry code for the building, held the door open for Cas, then made his way up the steps, which, he realized, was much easier than when Cas had pulled him down flights of stairs that morning.

He lead Cas to the apartment proper, past the kitchen and into the living room. He waved an arm in the general direction of the couch.

"Sit down?"

Cas had stopped by the kitchen counter. He held up a piece of paper, Sam's handwriting looping across it. Dean moved back beside him to read it.

> DEAN- IF YOU ARE READING THIS YOU NEED TO CALL ME NOW! WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?  
>  WE GOT A CALL THIS MORNING THAT YOU LEFT THE HOSPITAL. THEY SAID YOU SNUCK OUT!   
> WHERE ARE YOU? I HAVE TO GO IN. MANAGEMENT MEETING. CALL ME!

"Shit." Dean sighed. "I need to go in to work."

Cas looked him over. "Have you seen yourself?"

Dean shook his head. He unbuttoned the borrowed coat. Ugh.

"I haven't even had a shower," he groaned as he moved through the living room to his bedroom. He turned to find Cas had followed him.

"Let me help you," Cas offered. His eyes met Dean's and Dean felt his stomach flip. Castiel was being sincere. Dean swallowed hard.

"Cas, I..." Dean cleared his throat. "I like you but I'm going to shower by myself."

Cas smiled. "Okay." He turned, crossing the apartment.

Dean faltered. "Hey, Cas. Wait."

Castiel turned, grinning. "What?"

"Do you listen to Graphic Traffic? Tina Something?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Cas replied.

"I don't know... I just ..." Dean coughed.

"I was wondering..." Dean could feel his cheeks burning red as Castiel's grin stretched wider. "Are you already... Do you... Do you maybe have a team?"

Castiel's smile turned quizzical. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in on Dean.

"Are you asking if I am gay?"

Dean's thoughts stuttered to a halt. "No, no. No! I mean, I don't care if you are? Are you? Wait, no. I meant, for Party Crashing. Do you have a team for Party Crashing?"

"No." Cas said, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Good!" Dean said, a little more excited than he'd planned. "Good," he tried to tamper down his tone. "Your next night off? When's that?"

"Thursday..." Cas still sounded highly suspicious.

"Okay. Thursday. Come by Thursday. We need a rear window/ passenger blind spot." He said, feeling pretty proud of himself. He stuck his hands into the coat pockets and leaned back on the balls of his feet. His calves screamed with the movement but Dean felt cool. Oh! The coat!

"And I'll give you your coat back." Dean promised.

"Okay?" Cas said, drawing out the 'ay' sound.

"Yeah. Good. I'll see you then."

Cas left. Dean sighed, dropping down onto the couch. Every single spot on his body ached but a small part of him, somewhere inside his rib cage, was dancing on the beach.


	4. Chapter 4

***

It was silent and he was slumped into his own lap. Dean’s head felt heavy and his ears rang. He looked over to Sammy, thankfully strapped into his seat, kicking his legs, lips spread wide, eyes squinched, face red. Dean recognized his screaming without hearing it and then recognized the clawing in his own throat as screams as well. 

He felt the car move, saw John climbing out of the front seat, scrambling to get to the front of the car. Dean unbuckled himself, pushing bags of clothes that had flown everywhere out of his way. He ran his hands over Sammy, fingers touching every little spot he could reach, He could feel his lips shushing even though he still couldn’t hear himself. Satisfied Sammy wasn’t harmed, Dean twisted to see his father out the front windshield but John wasn’t there.

Dean panicked. He climbed into the front passenger seat, the muscles in his legs and back already shooting with pain, he propped his hands on the dash, leaning forward to peer through the windshield but he still couldn’t see John.  What he could see was red, bright red, splattered and shining against the hood of the car.  Dean pulled the handle, knocked opened the door and jumped. 

His heart was pounding in his ears. He found his father sitting on the ground in front of the car with his back leaning against the front bumper where it was cracked and dented in at the spot where the spray of red had erupted. Dean stumbled, his legs suddenly heavy. He sat on the road watching his father cradle a large dog.  It was shaggy and blonde and blood was everywhere.

  
***

 

Dean stepped out of the shower, his body covered in goose bumps and shivering. He'd cranked the water as cool as he could stand it trying to dull the throbbing ache building inside him that had nothing to do with his wreck injuries. He stood, gently patting a towel against his tender skin, bruises bloomed and faded across nearly every inch of him. Dean had made a point to avoid the mirror when stepping into the shower. He didn't want to see himself flushed and frustrated. Looking into the mirror now, he realized that he wouldn't have seen any blushing in his face or neck anyway because those areas were black and blue and green like the rest of his body. His face was swollen, generally, and he had the sudden realization that Cas had met him and only known him while he was a patchwork of pain.

Dean carefully lowered himself on the bed, the moisture left on his skin soaking into the sheets, and tried to relax. He reached for the top sheet with the intent to cover himself but he was asleep before his fingers could grasp it.

  
*  
  


“Oh, my God! Dean!” Dean turned his head, the water swirling around him. He was walking along the bottom of an ocean, his bare feet gripping the ocean floor effortlessly, moving with the current. He was going somewhere, wasn’t he? Somewhere, surely, but he turned to Sam, yelling beside him.

“Dean!” The word escaped from Sam’s mouth in an air bubble, written comic book style, and wobbled as it shot toward the surface miles above them. Dean wanted to laugh, but his lungs burned, warning him not to breathe. Suddenly, he became aware of how tight and pinched his chest felt. Dean tried to wave Sam away, uselessly pushing water with one hand. He turned away, his eyes settling on a baby, laying naked and screaming on a porch, and the darkness all around him was the night sky rather than ocean and the dirt beneath his feet parched rather than ocean bed and the cry piercing the air constricted Dean’s chest even more than the water had a moment before. 

Dean didn’t move, but was closer to the baby, close enough now to touch it. The baby was new, very new, still covered in grey something and laying on it’s side, pulling in air, releasing screams that sounded more like a lost kitten. A young girl appeared beside the baby. She had long red hair, wide set eyes, and slender fingers. Dean watched as the child gently lifted the baby and wrapped it in a blanket. She cradled the infant comfortably in the crook of her arm. She cooed down at it. She slipped her little finger into the newborn’s mouth and Dean watched as the baby’s mouth worked to suckle.

Another child appeared beside the girl, this one a younger boy with a familiar face and startlingly blue eyes. He wrapped a heavy blanket around the girl and the infant she held. He touched the top of the baby’s head, fingers lightly tracing the child’s soft crown, then he looked up directly at Dean, locking eyes with him. He reached out for Dean, motioning for his hand, and Dean placed his hand in the child’s. The boy guided Dean’s hand to the infant’s cheek. 

Dean was afraid he would hurt the baby but the boy held his hand in place and the girl gazed up at him. She spoke, her face a picture of calm, “Dean!” Sam’s voice erupted from her mouth. The boy spoke, “Dean!” Sam’s voice again. The girl pulled her finger from the baby’s mouth, it’s little lips pulling apart to cry and Sam’s voice bursting out “Wake up!”

 

Dean woke to Sam hovering over him, yelling. 

“Dean! Wake up! What happened to you?!”

Dean groaned.  He forced his eyes open and immediately saw Sam, hair disheveled, brows furrowed. Just behind Sam, Dean caught sight of Ruby. He felt the cool of the sheet pulling across his legs as she politely covered his lower half. 

“Why aren’t you at the hospital? Why did you leave? What happened? WHY didn’t you CALL me when you got HOME?!”

Dean grimaced. His voice was hoarse when he stated, simply, “Coffee.”

Ruby, her mouth set in a grim line, turned to leave the room. Good, thought Dean. She makes it strong. He was going to need it.

Dean worked to prop himself up to his elbows, cocking his head to the side.

“Sammy,” he croaked, “I’m fine.”   
“Fine? You’re fine? Have you seen yourself!?”

“You’re one to talk,” Dean said as he finally realized that the discoloration around Sam’s eyes was bruising and not some flaw in his own vision.

“We’re fine.” Sam said. He ran his hand through his hair.

“Oh, thank God,” Dean sighed as Ruby entered carrying a steaming mug. Dean sat up, scooting back til he could lean against the wall where a headboard should have been if he and Sam hadn’t furnished their apartment like Nighttime college kids. His hands shook slightly as she handed him the cup but the warmth felt good. He pulled the mug close to his chest, breathing in the strong aroma, letting it fill his lungs and he could feel the muscles in his chest and across his shoulders relaxing. Dean brought the mug to his lips, closed his eyes, and sipped, carefully.The warmth spread through him and he felt Little Becky, laying in the sand, the sun on her skin.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with Sam sitting on the side of the bed, his bitch face turned up to 10.

“Alright, okay.” Dean sighed.

“I woke up in the hospital, well, this guy woke me up because someone was there looking for me, making threats, “Dean waved his hand as Sam and Ruby’s eyes widened, “No big deal, whatever, because this guy got me out of the hospital without us being seen. We hid in some crawlspace under some random house near the hospital during Daytime.” Dean said. “I have too many infractions, already.“ He added, as if this would fully clarify things.

“We hung out there till Nighttime and walked home. The guy insisted to walk with me. Apparently,” Dean gestured vaguely to himself, “I look like shit.”   
Ruby nodded.   
“So that’s it, Sammy. I got home, showered, and fell into bed.” Dean sipped his coffee, the warmth spreading through his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” 

Sam sighed.   
“I wish I had of been there. We left to get home before curfew.”

“I understand.” Dean sipped his coffee. “Oh, how are you guys?”

Sam shrugged. He rubbed his palms down the tops of his thighs.

“Sore.” Ruby supplied.

“Well, you look good.” Dean smiled.

Ruby set him with a level stare, her lips pursed tight.

“Who was the guy?” Sam asked.

“Oh, uh. I don’t know? I only heard him. He was yelling at the nurses, I think. He knew me, though. Demanded me specifically. ‘Where’s Dean Winchester?! I’ll kill him!’ I never saw him. We stayed ahead of them.”

“Who would want to kill you?” Ruby mused.

“Very funny.” Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s not the important question anyway.”

Sam turned to his brother, “It isn’t?”

“Mm mm” Dean shook his head, slightly. “The important question is ‘Who would want to save me?’” Dean grinned.

Sam twisted away from Dean to face Ruby and Dean watched her impassive features as she and Sam shared a silent conversation. 

“Okay,” She said, eyes flitting to Dean. “I’ll bite. Who got you out of the hospital?”

“You’ll meet him Thursday.” 

“Why?” 

“I asked him to be on our team.”

Sam whipped around, his eyes wide, “You? You asked him?”   
“Yeah,” Dean shrugged. He noticed the line of light on the floor, sunlight breaking in from under the dark heavy curtain. It was creeping up on mid morning and despite sleeping for 18 of the last 24 hours and a strong cup of coffee, Dean still ached and felt exhausted. 

“You guys should get some rest.”

“Yeah,” Sam took the empty cup from Dean. “You should.”

Dean scooted down in the bed, gingerly laying back. He closed his eyes and breathed carefully, slowly.  He listened as Sam and Ruby padded from the room. As he heard the door pulled shut, he let out a breath and willed himself to relax


	5. Chapter 5

***

Dean's heart was pounding in his ears. He found his father sitting on the ground in front of the car with his back leaning against the front bumper where it was cracked and dented in at the spot where the spray of red had erupted. Dean stumbled, his legs suddenly heavy. He sat on the road watching his father cradle a large dog.  It was shaggy and blonde and blood was everywhere.

All at once, Dean could hear everything crystal clear. Sam was still wailing in the backseat. John held the dog in his lap with his arms hugging the animal close to his chest. He was crying, repeating, ‘I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry. How did I not see you? I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s mind shuddered to a halt when he saw the dog turn it’s head, slightly, toward his father. _Oh, no. It’s still alive._

  
***

 

Three days later and Dean still can’t pull a pallet. They’ve got him stocking light stuff in the dairy department, yogurt and cheese, because there’s some company rule that if you’re visibly black and blue you can’t be seen lifting anything heavier than three ounces. Also, it keeps him hidden away in the cooler and, while that’s great and all for management, it plays hell on his sore muscles. The hours drag by, especially tonight. It’s Thursday, and when he gets off, Dean’s plan is to pick up a few items from the fresh deli, some drinks, and rush home.

Dean emptied another box of strawberry yogurt onto the shelf, his fingers stiff and clumsy, while his mind was replaying every glimpse he’d had of the man Castiel. Dean smiled. Just the name was enough to cause flutters in his stomach. He tried not to think about waking up with his hand so close to Castiel’s while he simultaneously thought about nothing but Cas holding his hand while he fell asleep.

Thankfully, most of his bruises had faded to light ugly shades of green and, once he got out of the cooler, his muscles weren’t quite as tense.

Dean heard the cooler door open, felt the air around him shift from decompression, and he heard Sam’s voice echoing above the sound of the vents.

“Ten minutes til clock out, Dean! Wrap it up.”

“Got it.” Dean called back and he felt the air shift again as the door sealed shut.

If there was any perk to having Sam as his manager, Dean thought,  being babysat wasn’t one of them but he appreciated the warning just the same and pretended to himself that he hadn’t been checking his watch every five minutes throughout his entire shift.

He walked through the cooler, clearing boxes and organizing some of the overstock for day shift. The Daytimers would complain about the tiniest things left over from the Nighttimer crew and Dean didn’t need another week with a dock in pay. He shed his pull over at the cooler door, hanging it neatly on the hook marked ‘Night Shift’.

Dean was walking down the back hallway, scrolling through his cell phone in an effort to text Sam that he needed to get a few things when another employee fell in step beside him.

“Hey, kid.” The man drawled and Dean broke into a wide grin.

“Benny! Man!” Dean turned and hugged the burly man, letting his hand linger for a moment too long pressed into Benny’s back. “I’m glad you’re back! How was it?”

Benny pulled out of the hug, holding Dean by the shoulders at arms length. He smiled comfortably.

“Good. I needed the time away and Vegas is always fun. They’ve split, too, now, did you know? I had to get a special Daytime pass. But it was great.”

“Great!” Dean smiled but his initial joy fizzled and the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“You okay?” Benny asked. He dropped his hands from Dean’s shoulders.

Dean answered too quickly, “Yeah, yeah.” but thought again when Benny gave him a knowing look.

“I’ll be okay, man. It’s okay,” he said.

Benny shifted beside him.

“I still want to be friends. I mean that.” Benny gently lifted Dean’s chin to meet his eyes. “It’s okay that it didn’t work out between us. Some things ain’t meant to be. I still care about you. Know that, alright?”

Dean smiled, weakly, “Yeah. Yeah, I know that. I’m glad you had a good time.”

Benny’s eyes softened and Dean closed his eyes when he saw Benny lifting his hand. He held himself still while Benny tenderly touched his cheek, fighting the urge to lean into the touch.

“Hey, Benny. Welcome back.” Sam said, causing Dean to jump.  Sam’s voice was cold and his glare ice.

Benny took a step away from Dean. “Sam,” he nodded, then to Dean, “I’d best be off.”

Dean watched as he walked away, waiting til the man turned the far corner of the hallway before turning on his brother.

“Dude!”  
“Don’t ‘dude’ me, Dean.”   
“I had it under control.” Dean huffed. He pushed past Sam, continuing toward the office.

“Oh? Did you? I couldn’t tell.” Sam called from behind him. “I’m going to the car.”

“I’ll meet you there, boss.” Dean said, raising his hand where he was certain Sam could see it and flipping him off.

“Cute.” Dean heard Sam say, and he grinned.

*

Dean paced the kitchen.

“Thank you for cleaning up, Ruby, I really appreciate it. I do.” Dean said, turning on the woman. She was sitting at the counter, eating cereal and reading a cheap paperback romance. She pulled her lips into a smile as she chewed soggy fruit loops. “I wish you hadn’t have done it, though, because now I have nothing to do.”

“Nervous?” She asked, laying her book down open on the counter. Dean snatched it up, stuck a plastic spoon between the pages to mark her spot and laid it back down closed. She looked up at him quizzically .

“You’ll break the spine that way.”

“Good.” She clicked her tongue, opened the book, tossed the spoon into the sink behind Dean and lay it down again as she had before.

Dean glared at her. It really was a good thing Sam liked her.   
Dean drummed his fingers on the counter.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m nervous.”

Ruby smiled and turned her attention back to her cereal.

“You’re no help.”

Dean pushed away from the counter, took the few steps into the living area and stepped over Sam who was laying prone, boosting already. Dean ran his hand through the shoebox of boosts, his fingers instinctively finding Little Becky’s Day at the Beach.  He glanced at the clock, wondering if he had enough time to make it through to laying on the warm sand in the sun but he dropped it deciding he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. He looked down on Sam, relaxed and oblivious, and sighed.

There was a knock at the door and Dean froze. Ruby twisted in her seat to watch Dean. She was holding the bowl in one hand and raised another spoonful of cereal to her mouth with the other.

“Answer the door!” Dean hissed to Ruby.  He nudged Sam in the side with his foot. Ruby just smiled from her seat.

Another knock. “Ruby!” Dean hissed at her again but she just shook her head, grinning smugly as she chewed.

“Coming!” Dean called, his eyes boring holes through Ruby as he walked past her towards the front door. She swiveled in her seat to follow his progression. As he gripped the handle and took a deep breath to try and steady himself, he heard her snickering, padding across the living area to Sam.

“Get up, Dumbo. Your brother’s savior boyfriend is here. Come on. Disconnect.”

Dean pulled open the door, prepared to greet Cas, but instead he found a short, petite woman with long black hair and her hip cocked out waiting in the hall.

“Fucking finally,” she said, rolling her eyes at Dean. “Clarence is coming. He had to stop on the way in and talk with the bum on the front steps.” She stepped around a stunned Dean and into the apartment.

“Well, hello.” she said, her eyes traveling appreciatively down Ruby and settling on Sam, who had just propped himself up on his elbows, on the floor in his sweat pants and plain t shirt. “Hello.” She repeated, enthusiastically.

“Hi,” Ruby said around a mouthful of cereal. She quickly swallowed. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Meg,” the woman answered. She set her hands on her hips then cooed, “and I’m a demon.”

“She is, I’ll have you know,” Dean whipped around to find Castiel standing in the doorway just behind him. The bastard snuck up on him!  The corners of Castiel’s mouth pulled slightly into a smile. “She will torture you senseless and laugh all the while.” He winked at Dean.

“Hey,” Dean said, a little breathless. Cas was wearing a similar suit as the one he’d had on when they met. He still seemed unkept. He still seemed tired and like maybe he had spent a few hours sleeping on public transport. He seemed slight in just his suit, even though that was how Dean knew him. Dean caught himself studying the man’s lips, how dry they were, and he kind of wanted to watch Cas lick them, which made him think about Cas licking other things. He reeled in his thoughts and forced himself to meet those blue eyes. “Clarence?”

Cas breathed a little laugh, “Yeah,” his eyes moved to Meg-The-Demon and Dean looked to her. She was standing too close to Ruby, her arm draped comfortably around Ruby’s waist as they talked quietly. Dean couldn’t make out what they were saying to each other, but judging by the look Sam wore, watching them from the couch, their words didn’t really matter. Sammy looked like Christmas had come early, and honestly, so did Ruby. “She’s always called me that.” He shrugged.

“I guess people like nicknames,” he said, standing closer to Dean, “it’s a way to make someone your own.”

Dean cleared his throat.

“Are you… Are you her own?” Dean studied Meg’s heels, trying to decide if the red underside was a sign of expensive taste or just trashy.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s that simple.”

Cas rubbed his shoulder against Dean’s as he walked past him into the living area. He moved straight to Sam, shaking his hand, and Dean heard Sam thank him. He sounded so genuine. Cas sat down beside him, the two of them talking easily, while Ruby and Meg moved to sit on the floor with the box of boosts between them. They chatted and laughed while picking through the boosts.

Dean shook his head. He had been so worried. He sighed, smiled, and began pulling snacks from the fridge and piling them onto the counter.

After dinner, Meg pulled a boost from inside her shirt where she had concealed it in her bra between her breasts. She winked as she held it up. “Little Becky’s Trip on a Train,” she sang and everyone groaned, except Dean. Little Becky boosts were expensive. That’s why he only had the one. Little Becky’s Trip on a Train was possibly the most sought after boost because it was the last boost outcorded by the Source before she hit puberty. It was twelve hours, Dean had read, of Little Becky watching the world whizz by through a train window as she swished her dangling feet inches from the train’s floor. The seat was too hard and the sun was too bright, Dean had read. The Source’s hormones were already edgy enough to force disconnects, Dean had read.

He wanted more than anything in the world to boost it.

Dean leaned forward looking around Cas to Meg where she sat on his other side.

“I’m game.”

Meg turned a megawatt smile on him, her lips stretched thin,her teeth barred.

“You don’t even know the best part.”

“It’s Little Becky. That’s all I need to know.” Dean said.

He looked around their group where he was the odd man out. Sam had his arm around Ruby’s back. Ruby had a hand resting on Meg’s thigh, thoughtlessly stroking her thumb along the seam of The Demon’s stockings. Castiel was gazing at Meg like the sun was showing a halo around her head… but he also had one hand behind Dean, propping himself up, and had slipped his thumb into the back pocket of Dean’s jeans.

It wasn’t all bad.

“So, group boost?”

Sam shrugged. He began gathering the dishes from the circle, loaded them into an awkward pile in his arms then rose like a majestic moose while balancing the stack. Ruby clapped and laughed. Dean noticed Cas crack a smile.

“I like your brother,” Cas leaned into Dean to whisper. Dean’s stomach tightened at the words.

Meg shook the boost inches from their faces, drawing their attention back to her.

“You will love this.” Meg said. Dean couldn’t miss the dare in her voice.

*

Dean splurged last year on a group boost adapter. Dean hadn’t had a chance to use it much.  He didn’t really enjoy the kind of boosts Ruby and Sam did, though they used it sometimes to boost all together. Sam was already laying on his back on the floor with Ruby beside him. Meg laid out with her head near Ruby’s, giggling about how she had to toss her legs up onto the couch to fit. Her skirt fell down around her waist displaying full red laced panties and matching garters but Dean was more distracted by how she was twirling Ruby’s hair in her fingers. Cas laid on this side of Meg, his head near hers, with Dean laying on his stomach between Cas and Sam. Dean took in the sight of their little circle of heads, bodies radiating from the center as he set up the adapter. He passed everyone their blank boost.

Dean flipped over to his back and inserted his boost.

“Ready?” He asked, looking over at Cas.

“Let’s go!” Meg said, laughing. Dean heard Ruby giggling and Sam shushing them though his own giggles.

Dean reached over his head and inserted the boost into the adapter.

He blinked and he was on a platform. The sun was bright, too bright, and the air felt crisp, almost painfully so, like this track had been threaded through someone with butterfly skin. Little Becky scuffed her shoe on the wood and Dean felt her annoyance prickle across the back of her neck. She raised a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. Dean squinted with her.

As the train approached, the station rumbled, the sounds too loud. Dean flinched with Becky. He couldn’t decide if the Source had a headache or if she was just a typical young girl.

The train slowed to a stop and Becky ambled to her seat. Her feet moved reluctantly. Dean felt a sense of foreboding and he wondered if all preteen girls moved through life like her death waited just around the bend.

Little Becky found her seat and slid in, tucking her skirt under her, and Dean was uncomfortably aware of how Becky’s hands lingered under her thighs leaving warm impressions on Dean where he’d rather a twelve year old’s hands wouldn’t be. It was enough to make him want to disconnect but the whistle blew, too loud, and the train began to pull forward.

Little Becky rested back into her seat and closed her eyes, swallowing Dean into darkness. He felt the rumble of the train in the seat. He breathed the scent of pastries from the food cart. The rhythmic chug and dull roar of the engine and wheels threatened to overwhelm him.

This lasted for full minutes. Dean had the impression that the Source was counting in her mind to a set number before she would open her eyes. During this deprivation of visual sensory stimuli, Dean heard a female voice pierce through and overlay the boost’s soundtrack.

“Buckle up. You’re in for a ride.”

Of fucking course, Meg had a reboosted version instead of the original. Dean groaned, he heard it echo within his own head, and Little Becky’s left hand felt heavy and warm.

Little Becky’s eyes fluttered open. She seemed calmer, happier, and Dean felt like they were both floating inside the cabin even though she sat anchored in the seat, still. As she glanced around the cabin, Dean noticed a rainbow of colors floating through the air near the loudspeaker. The colors twisted and bent and bounced and shook in time to the muzak that poured from the speaker. The trumpets hit a note that shone bright gold in rings of circles looping the speaker.

Well. That was new.

Little Becky watched the food cart make it’s way back to her. The man pushing it was younger than Dean. He smiled kindly and Dean felt a flutter in Little Becky’s chest, like her toes were digging into the sand on a day when the sun was just the right shade of bright. Dean noticed tiny sparks of green and blue around the wheels of the cart. He realized he could just barely make out the smallest squeaks as the cart rolled along.

The man pulled the cart beside Little Becky and smiled brightly. Dean felt Little Becky’s lips pull into a wide smile. The man opened his mouth to speak, but with the words, tiny blue birds fluttered from his mouth. Little Becky nodded, answering the man’s question that Dean didn’t process. She raised her hand to accept a small cake wrapped in a floral napkin. Dean watched as the air around her arm and hand pulsed red sparks. The man smiled, opened his mouth to release more little blue birds into the compartment, then pushed the cart on. Little Becky relaxed into the too hard seat and Dean’s heart was pounding as he saw violent spikes of black shooting up beside the window where the sound of the engine and wheels on the tracks was loudest.  Little Becky lifted the cake to her lips. She breathed in the scent, buttery and warm, with a hint of cherry. Dean felt himself start to panic as a flurry of woodland creatures poured from the cake and seemed to be scurrying into Little Becky’s nostrils. He could feel them, tiny furry creatures scurrying around attached to the various scents of the cake. Little Becky licked her lips, opened her mouth, and Dean could taste the scent of cake in the air on his own tongue, along with the overwhelming feel of hooves clamoring across a savannah.

Dean disconnected, in a full on panic, before Little Becky let the cake touch her lips.

He lay, panting, his heart racing, blessing the hard cold floor beneath him. He sucked in the scent of the apartment, thankful for the three day old sock smell and willed himself to chill the fuck out and get a grip before he opened his eyes.

Dean couldn’t shake the fear that it wasn’t just the boost. His left hand still felt warm and heavy, just like Little Becky’s had, and he swallowed back a flood of terror that maybe none of that weirdness was the boost. Maybe it was all him and his mind flung out thoughts wondering what the Nighttime madhouse was like and how soon he’d feel at home there.

Dean cracked his eyes open slowly. He moved his right hand up into his line of vision and moved it slowly, and when nothing appeared in the air around it, more quickly just for good measure. His arm dropped to his side and he drew in quick, sharp breaths. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t losing his mind.

Dean rolled his head to find Cas beside him, breathing shallow, still connected, and Dean wondered if he should reconnect. He glanced down between them to see where Cas had laid his hand over Dean’s. Dean felt sunshine warming his skin. He rolled his head a little further, only to find Meg and Ruby not only disconnected already, but severely short on clothing and kneeling nearly in each other’s lap, Meg’s fingers gliding delicately up Ruby’s exposed back as her lips pressed gentle kisses along Ruby’s collar bone. Ruby hummed appreciatively.

Dean blinked. He shifted around to see Sam, sitting up with his back against the wall, watching the ladies. Dean noticed Sam dragging his fingertips over his sweatpants along the length of his cock as he watched his girlfriend enjoy Castiel’s girlfriend while Cas laid beside Dean, boosting and blissfully unaware.

Dean squirmed. This was wild even for Sam.

Dean noticed Sam’s outcord tell, where he touches his lips first then rubs his right hand along the right side of his neck, fingers wrapping around to hit the outcord switch. Sam thinks he’s so sly but Dean knew he was outcording and he figured Ruby assumed as much. Sam shifted up onto his knees, moving slowly closer to the ladies. He touched Ruby first, his hands enormous on her tiny frame but she lifted her eyes to him as he slid up behind her. She moaned, quietly, as he kissed her and Dean saw Meg grinning as she slid her palm between them, down Ruby’s belly and cupped her fingers under the other woman, applying warm, wanted pressure to her clit. When Ruby broke the kiss with Sam, she pushed her hips into Meg’s grip, and, placing one hand on Meg’s cheek and the other under Sam’s chin, she guided the two toward the other, licking and nipping at Sam’s neck as he and Meg kissed.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He shifted himself closer to Cas, flipping his hand palm up under Castiel’s and lacing their fingers. He prayed the psychedelic shit would be over and reconnected to the boost.

Dean opened his eyes to see Little Becky watching her feet sway and swing in the space between her seat and the seat in front of her. She was wearing simple white Keds and white socks with lace frill bunching at the top.  As she watched her feet, ripples and waves of various colors flowed out from all down her legs like a stream of rainbows wrapping and twisting in the air. Dean sighed as Little Becky sighed. This wasn’t that bad. He felt an unease in her stomach, possibly from the cake earlier, or from travel sickness, or, he thought slightly horrified, the Source might be experiencing the first signs of PMS.

Dean thought back to his first boost experience in school. He’d sworn off coffee, assuming that had caused the dull steady ache in his teacher’s abdomen.  He later learned to recognize those pangs for what they are: cramps.

Oh, Little Becky, you’re growing up on me,  he thought.

He tried to relax into the boost and not think about his brother, his brother’s girlfriend, and this guy who he might have a major crush on’s girlfriend and what they most definitely were doing probably just feet from where he lay. He also tried not to think about how warm Little Becky’s hand was, and how that was actually how warm his own hand was, and how much he enjoyed that.

Dean had been watching Becky’s feet sway to the rhythm of the train long enough that his mind had cleared and even the colors floating around the cabin accompanying sounds and scents and gestures became familiar and began to feel normal when he felt a hard external disconnect. Someone was manually removing the boost from his port.

Dean opened his eyes to Sam leaning over him. Sam’s face was flushed, his smile wide, his hair slick.

“You’ve been boosting for hours, Dean. Come on. You’ll miss all the planning.”

Dean rolled his head toward the kitchen where he could hear Ruby and Meg chatting easily at the counter. They were sitting on stools they had pushed together, both wrapped in the comforter from Sam’s bed. Dean came back to meet his brother’s gaze and tried to give him a very disappointed look.

Sam laughed, “Those two are demons in bed. Meg wasn’t lying. You should have seen how she had Ruby screa-”

Dean’s heart slowed as he watched dawning spread across his brother’s face. Sam’s eyes had settled as he was talking on Dean and Castiel’s intertwined fingers but he swallowed, hard, then asked, “Are you sure?”

“I don’t know?” Dean whispered.

“It’s just so soon after….”

“Benny, yeah. I know.”

Sam faltered. He seemed like he had something else to say. Dean stared him down, internally daring him to bring up Lisa, the woman Dean had broken before he and Benny had their fling. It’s a hard pill to swallow when you find out your fiance is into dick, too. Lisa wanted to try but Dean couldn’t. He had built their relationship on too many lies.

Sam nodded. He pushed himself up to standing.

“You’ll disconnect him? The girls want to plan the next party night.”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll be right along.”

Dean rolled to his side. His eyes traveled over Castiel’s lips. Dean had to fight the urge to kiss him.

“Hey, Cas. Cas. Castiel.” Dean smiled. The name felt good on his tongue.

Dean reached over, rubbing his fingers gently along the side of Castiel’s neck. He slid his hand back to do a hard disconnect but found Castiel’s port empty. His finger accidentally slipped inside the port and he withdrew it quickly.

“Cas?” Had he really been sleeping this entire time? Dean squeezed his hand but Cas didn’t stir. Dean pulled his hand from Castiel’s, lifting himself up onto his knees. The world spun for a moment as his body adjusted to the change. He placed both hands on Castiel’s shoulders and shook him gently.

“Cas. I need you,” Dean said,” to wake up.”

Castiel’s eyes moved beneath his lids. Dean sat back to watch as the man before him arched his back, gasped in a breath, and pulled his arms above his head, stretching awake. Dean wished he had thought ahead to outcord the moment.

“Good morning, Dean.”

“Hey, when did you disconnect?”  
Cas stretched out on the floor, yawned, then rolled himself up into a sitting position. He ruffled his own hair.

“I never connected. Meg loves that synesthesia reboost but it’s too much for me.” He glanced at Dean then looked at his hand in his lap. “My hand is sweaty,” he laughed, wiping his palm on his pants.

Cas stood and stretched again, pulling his arms above his head, lifting himself up onto his toes, and from Dean’s view point on the floor, it was breathtaking. Castiel’s shirt, long untucked from his pants, lifted just enough to allow Dean a peek at the hollow of his hips.

Dean thought about hitting his outcord switch the next moment he had a chance and just letting it run for the rest of his life if he could spend that time watching Cas.

Cas stepped around him. He moved through the apartment and walked up behind Meg. She noticed him coming. She greeted him with a grin peeking out over the comforter gathered on her shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. Ruby pointed to a place on the map, drawing both Meg and Castiel’s attention. Sam turned from the fridge, unloading food from his arms onto the counter, his chest still blushed, he turned a bright smile on Cas that made Dean’s stomach twist tight. Sam offered Cas an apple from the pile and Dean saw their fingers touch as Cas took the fruit and Dean relaxed when Castiel laughed at something Sam said.

Dean sighed.

He pushed himself up. “So, what’re we doing?”

“Student driver,” Ruby said. “Sam got the message during the boost.”

“Oh!” Dean said, rubbing his hands together. “My favorite! Someone turn on Graphic Traffic!”

* 

Planning for a party night doesn’t take much. By the time Dean ambled over to the counter, Meg and Ruby had most everything mapped out and Dean wasn’t going to complain. 

“I like Meg,” Sam winked. He handed the bundle of hardware that made up the group boost adaptor to Dean.

Dean glanced over to the counter where Ruby and Meg were snuggled together in Sam’s comforter, still. Cas stood across from them, leaning on the counter, and gazing at Meg, his eyes alight with happiness.

“If she gets Ruby to ride rear driver consistently then I like her, too.” Dean said, storing the adaptor. 

Sam smirked. Dean chose to ignore it.


	6. Chapter 6

***

All at once, Dean could hear everything crystal clear. Sam was still wailing in the backseat. John held the dog in his lap with his arms hugging the animal close to his chest. He was crying, repeating, ‘I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry. How did I not see you? I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s mind shuddered to a halt when he saw the dog turn it’s head, slightly, toward his father.  _ Oh, no. It’s still alive. _

John quieted, inclining his face toward the animal. Dean watched as the dog gently nuzzled its nose against John’s face. 

“What?” John asked. The dog only licked his face in response. John’s eyes widened. “No.” Dean watched the animal rest against his father, sigh, then go still.

“No. No, no, no, no.” John pushed the dog out of his lap, it’s body twisting and folding in ways that made Dean’s stomach turn. John wiped his bloody hands absently on his bloodier shirt.  His eyes were wild, the kind of wild that would haunt Dean at night. “Where’s Sammy?” He turned on Dean while still shoving the dog away.

Dean snapped into the moment. He raised a finger toward the source of wailing. He couldn’t pull his eyes from the swath of blood covering the front of his father. 

***

 

Sunday Student Driver night was always one of the more subdued. Decorating was simple. Every car participating just needed a Student Driver flag on the roof of the car. There was tale that an actual student driver got caught during the party window once. He and his driving instructor both fled from the vehicle after they’d been tagged nearly a hundred times in a four block strip. Depending on who was telling the story, the kid and the instructor both formed teams and started party crashing. Depending on who was telling the story, the kid and instructor both died in a fiery crash at the end of the party window, never escaping that kid’s first foray into the driving world.

Sam had the car packed with snacks and Dean was prepared to stop at least twice to get more. Ninety five percent of party crashing was snacking.

Cas and Meg insisted on walking to the apartment to join them.  When Dean saw them turn the corner, Meg leading the way with Castiel half a step behind her, he ducked into the car to hide his grin. It faltered only slightly when he saw Meg was leading Cas by the hand. 

Ruby stepped out of the apartment, calling to Meg and waving.

“My Queen!” Meg sang. She scampered to Ruby as quickly as her heels would allow. The two embraced and kissed. The security light cast a glow around them that made the moment seem surreal. 

“Ruby,” Cas nodded as he passed them. She waved and began to giggle with Meg.

Cas joined Dean by the car. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Dean shoved another package of twizzlers into the space in the dash. When he looked up, Cas was leaned back against the car, watching Ruby and Meg where they had sat down together on the curb, holding hands and talking.

“Those two, huh?” Dean said.

“Yes.” Dean saw Castiel smile. He moved to prop on the car beside Cas.

“I don’t get it.” Dean said.   
“What?”   
“I don’t get her. I don’t understand your relationship.”

“Me either.” Cas shook his head, smiling.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Afraid of what?”

Dean thought for a moment. “Losing her.”

“No, Dean. She’s not mine to lose.”

Dean shook his head. He shoved his hands into his front pockets. “I don’t get it.”

Cas turned to catch his eye. His brow furrowed as he narrowed his lids, his eyes shining blue under the street light. Dean held his gaze, unable to pull his eyes away. He had the nagging feeling that Cas was reading something in him.

“So get this,” Sam called out as he exited the building and walked toward them. Cas broke the gaze easily, turning to Sam and smiling warmly. Dean felt like he’d been left out in the rain. “They’re chopping tonight’s party window to an hour and a half!”

“What does that mean?” Cas asked. Meg stood and helped Ruby up from the curb.

“It means we’re going to have more free time after the window, Clarence.” Ruby said.

“Hey,” Meg chastised, bumping her elbow into Ruby’s side.

“Sorry. Castiel.” Ruby corrected. “What’s your last name, anyway?”

Meg frowned.

“Nothing.” Castiel answered.

“Nothing? Like, Hi, My name is Castiel Nothing?”

“Like, Hi, My name is Castiel No-I-Don’t-Have-A-Last-Name.”

“How do you not have a last name?”

Cas shrugged. “I have a middle name.”   
Dean caught Meg’s smirk before she could hide it.

“What’s your middle name?” he asked.

“Angel of the Lord.”

Sam laughed, loudly. Dean tried and failed to stifle a chuckle.

Cas bowed dramatically to the group, “Castiel Angel of the Lord Nothing No-I-Don’t-Have-A-Last-Name at your service.”

“You’re a perfect little angel, too,” Meg said. She cradled his chin in her palm and lifted him from the bow, tilting his face up. She leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Yeah, so anyway,” Sam said, “that means we have more time before and after the window than we planned for. Do we still want to ride early? Scope out the party boundaries?”   
Ruby held up a silver cd, grinning, “I made a mix for tonight. Let’s go ahead and go!”

 

They piled into the car. Dean: driving. Sam: front passenger. Ruby: rear driver. Meg: rear center. Cas: rear passenger.  Dean had never had a full team before and, after listening to everyone banter happily for the last hour, he wondered why.  

“Alright, Meg,” Sam said. “Your job is to cover the rear window. That’s it. Someone comes up from right behind us, you tell Dean, ‘Six o’clock’.”

“Six o’clock. Got it.” She nodded while reaching for a paper plate in Ruby’s lap. “Hey, share the fries!”   
“You had your own,” Ruby teased.   
“I finished them.” Meg pouted.

“Sounds like that’s your problem.”

“Okay, Cas. Your quadrant is rear passenger, obviously, so you’re responsible for everything between three and five. You’ve got to watch. Players are quick to tag and sneaky, especially on Student Driver night because the flag is so easy to miss.  Dean doesn’t like full tags on Baby but flirts are fine so judge the other player’s approach carefully. His rule is, if Baby gets tagged from your quadrant, you’re stuck helping him fix her up.”

“Dean’s rule is also, if baby gets tagged from your quadrant, and you didn’t identify incoming, you’re out.” Ruby said, popping a salty fry into Meg’s open mouth.

“Ruby,” Sam warned. She smiled sweetly.

“Got it,” Cas said. He began scanning out his widow. “When does the party window start?”   
“In five,” Sam said. “Everyone buckle up. Store your food.”   
“Ruby, where’s your mix cd?” Dean asked.

Ruby looked surprised but she fished the cd from her bag and passed it up to Dean. He laid it on the dash, music side up.

Dean pulled Baby into an alleyway just inside the party boundaries. Everyone inside fell silent as they waited for the clock to count down. They’d been passing cars with the flag for nearly an hour, laughing and honking and flashing their lights so they knew there were plenty of other participants tonight. Dean gripped the wheel. He appreciated the anticipatory silence that had fallen over the group.

As the moments ticked down, Dean slid Ruby’s cd into the player on the dash. Dean turned to Sam as the opening notes for “Gangsta’s Paradise” spilled from Baby’s speakers.  Sam shrugged.

“As I walk through the valley where I harvest my grain….” They both groaned.

“Really, Ruby?! Weird Al?” Dean asked.

Ruby laughed.

“You love it,” she said.

Dean wouldn’t admit it, of course, but fifteen minutes into the party window their group was still parked in that same alleyway laughing at Weird Al songs because Cas had never heard any of them before and Dean enjoyed watching him have that first experience. It was Meg that demanded they get out and play.

“Alright. Okay,” Dean relented. “But we have to listen to my mix. I can’t have my rear passenger getting us dinged up because he’s laughing at ‘Eat It’.”

He glanced back over his shoulder in time to see the hint of a blush tinting Cas’s cheeks.  Their eyes met and Dean winked.

“Now, buckle up. Let’s do this!” Sam said.   
“Yeah!”  Ruby cheered, hitting her hands on the back of Dean’s seat.

“Easy. Easy!” Dean chided. Ruby laughed.

Dean pulled them out into the game play where they immediately caught a flirt from a tight little emerald green Escort on Baby’s right rear bumper. Cas made the call seconds before the vehicles touched but not nearly early enough to give Dean time to maneuver Baby away from the impact. 

“Shit! Shit! Dean, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Cas gasped. He had loose Skittles all in his lap from where he dropped the open bag to grip his seat belt in preparation for impact.    
Dean didn’t have time to respond. He cranked the wheel hard right, swinging Baby’s tail left and the ladies in back reeling nearly into Cas’s lap. A black Escape sailed past them, horn blaring, but missed getting the tag by mere inches.    
“Holy shit! Two O’clock,” Sam said. He was twisted in his seat, eyes scanning his quadrant, hands clutching the handle on the roof of the car. Dean called them ‘Baby’s Love Handles’. Sam called them ‘Oh, Shit’ handles. 

Dean swerved loose around the incoming primer grey goliath. It was a 15 passenger Chevy van with a little “Student Driver” flag hung from the rear view mirror. The driver clearly meant to demolish anything he came into contact with and knew he could. 

“That fucker!” Meg yelled. “He doesn’t even have a team!”

“Why would he?” Dean countered. “That thing could bulldoze anything.”

Dean whipped Baby into an alley. As he pulled her to a park, he felt Ruby’s hand at his shoulder.

“You have to tag him.” She said.   
“No?” Dean laughed.   
“You have to. No one else is going to even try. Come on!”   
Dean laughed again. He looked to Sam and shrugged toward Ruby as if to say ‘HAHA she’s hilarious, right?’

Sam shrugged back. “She has a point.”   
“Hell yeah, she does,” Meg bounced in her seat.  She lifted Ruby’s hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers.

Dean squirmed.

“Cas?” He looked over his shoulder. “What do you think.”

Where just moments before Cas’s face had been flushed, now it was drained of color.  He looked terrified, still clutching his seatbelt at his chest. He swallowed, hard. 

Meg laid a hand to rest gently on his knee. She stroked her fingers kindly along Cas’s thigh, her fingers lingering with intimate familiarity.  Dean pushed down the flaring in his stomach.    
“Cas?” He tried to keep his voice level.

Cas looked up, finally, meeting Dean with a look in his eyes that was cold and hard.    
“Fuck it,” he said. “Let’s do it.”   
“That’s what I’m talking about.”

Dean threw Baby into reverse. He peeled out of the alleyway to the cheering of his team. Dean couldn’t remember having ever had this much fun while party crashing. He picked his way through two blocks of play area, swerving, stomping the brake, and lunging forward in response to the calls of his team. Dean laughed as he pulled Baby through a blinking caution light.

“Dean! Dean!” Sam was slapping at Dean’s shoulder with his hand. “There he is!”    
Dean craned to see where Sam was pointing. The goliath was rolling through a traffic light just a block down the street they were about to roll past. Dean reversed then turned right.

Dean could hear Ruby and Meg whispering and giggling to each other as he crept them along the street. Sam turned and shushed them. Dean glanced over to Sam, grinning, but his smile fell when he saw Sam had his right hand up at his shoulder, fingers interlaced with Cas, who had leaned forward in his seat and reached his right hand forward to rest on Sam’s shoulder. They were both watching their quadrants. 

Dean gripped the wheel. He released a slow breath.

He eased Baby along the street, carefully, slowly until there was less than half a block between them and the van.    
“Easy,” Sam said.

Dean hoped no one else could hear him grinding his teeth.

Dean shot a look at Sam and noticed that Sam now had both hands gripping his ‘Oh, shit’ handle. Cas was still leaned forward, his hand on Sam’s shoulder, his face pale. Dean reminded himself that this was possibly Cas’s first time to even be in a fender bender and here he was riding rear passenger as they crept up to throw tiny Impala stones at a Chevy goliath. 

“Ready?”    
Dean heard rustling and murmurs  of agreement.

“Are we clear?”   
A solid “Yes” sounded from every team member.

Dean closed his eyes. He exhaled. He shook his shoulders out. 

Focused, calm, he opened his eyes and locked in on the van.

When he and Sam called Tina Something, they had no idea what they were getting into but after that first party window where Dean knew what was going on, he was hooked. He loved the hunt. That’s the main reason why he fell in love with party crashing in the first place.  He loved the hunt, the chase, the tag, the thrill of it all. It drug him in.  He loved milking the pulse after, too, but that wasn’t always promised. The jittery, on edge, nerve steeling intensity of the hunt was always guaranteed. 

Inching Baby toward the monster, Dean was able to push aside the gnawing in his gut that was Cas’s hand reaching for Sam. He was able to fade out the annoyingly harsh glow of Meg and whatever she was to Cas. He was able to erase Ruby. He could even numb out Sam. 

It was him and Baby, her gentle purr at his touch, and his tunnel vision honed in on the fat grey asshole ahead. 

Who’s entire rear end started blaring.

“What the fuck?” Sam braced himself.

Dean hit the brakes hard. The van had flown into reverse, backing down the street heading straight for them. Dean switched Baby from drive into reverse quick enough to hear the transmission grind.

“Fuck!”

Meg squealed, “Go! Go! Go!”   
“You’re clear!” Ruby shouted.

Dean had to trust her. He floored it, swinging Baby back through the street, narrowly avoiding the curb at the corner as he backed out to the left, the van only inches away from bashing baby’s front end.

Dean didn’t swing far enough, or he didn’t back far enough, because baby shook, a screaming thunder tore through her as the van left a swatch of primer grey across her face. Dean swore, without reserve, and with a passion that made Meg gasp.

Dean slammed the gas, lurching Baby backward, the entire team choked by their seatbelts. Dean fumbled to switch her forward but the Van peeled away, the driver hanging an arm lazily out the window, two fingers raised.

Dean felt the hand on his chest, warm and strong, before he heard the words being yelled at him. Sam had one hand pressed into his chest, the other holding his arm as Dean shook with rage.

“Party’s over, Dean!” Sam had dropped his voice down to a commanding growl.    
“The window’s closed! That’s it! We’re done!”

Dean shook. His breathing was ragged, each breath fighting against his muscles as they spasmed. Baby’s interior was silent but for Dean’s gasping, shuddering breaths. He tried to think of Little Becky and the sand, but he felt that ache in her abdomen instead and wiped her from his mind. 

Dean didn’t know how long it took, but by the time he caught his breath, calmed himself down, regular traffic had resumed on the street around them. Nighttimers getting groceries and paying bills and doing normal shit all pulled quietly around Baby, sitting feet from the intersection. 

“Are we good now?” Sam asked. His eyebrows climbed nearly off his head.   
“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean lied.   
“Maybe I should drive?” Sam offered.   
“Hell no.”   
“Dean,” the most gorgeous way he’d ever heard his name: deep, demanding, commanding, came from behind Sam.    
Dean felt grounded instantly.

“You just had a panic attack. Please, let Sam drive.” Cas continued.

“No.” Dean stared out the windshield, watching cars pull through the intersection,pointedly not looking into their headlights as they passed.

“Oh, for the love of Christ’s sweaty yeti balls.” Cas said. He got out and walked around the car to Dean’s door. He opened Dean’s door wide. 

“Get out.”

Dean stared up at him. Profile perfectly outlined by the streetlight behind him. Dean wished he had outcorded the entire party window just for this moment. 

He waited a beat.

“Fine,” he said, unbuckling. 

He could see Sam turning back to share a look with Ruby in his peripheral vision.    
He stood in front of Cas as Cas held the door open, glaring, but Cas met his gaze firm, unwavering. Dean felt his spine stiffen. He was angry now. How dare Cas call him out like this, in front of  everyone? Dean was about to turn, get back in the driver’s seat, when Cas lunged forward, wrapping his arms high around Dean’s shoulders and arms, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder. Holding him tight.

Dean tensed, at first, surprised, then he relaxed into it.

It felt safe, here, in Cas’s arms.

He felt the scratch of Cas’s day old scruff against his neck and knew, immediately that this needed to happen again when they weren’t in public. When it would be perfectly fine for Dean to hug him back. When it would be perfectly fine for Dean’s dick to be hard. 

Right now wasn’t that time.

“Go,” Cas breathed into his ear. 

Dean felt the loss the moment Cas released him. Like a blanket of protection had dropped, and he felt jittery at the thought of it.

Dean cringed as he crossed in front of Baby, his eyes lingering on the stripe of grey across her own black. It wasn’t any major damage but it still bothered him to see his baby marked.

He settled in beside Meg, too close to Meg, and tried not to meet her eyes. 

Sam seemed to be making a point to watch where they were going, to not turn and check on Dean, to keep Cas engaged in conversation.

Meg eventually got distracted by Ruby’s lips and apparently felt the need to taste them. 

Don’t get him wrong, Dean loves ladies, and some macho part of him wondered if he should want to watch Ruby and Meg kissing and groping but the 90% of him that was crap kept his eyes trained out the window, unfocused on the city as it blurred by.

 

It was Meg’s idea, the stripclub. Sam and Ruby were quick to agree with her. 

“That was a great first ride, Dean! We are fantastic as a team.” Sam said,without turning around.

“Yeah,” Dean said. ”I need to fix Baby, though.”   
Cas pulled to the curb outside a laundromat. It was too brightly lit, fluorescent rays of blinding white spilling into the sidewalk, the street, the car. 

Meg and Ruby climbed out of the car, legs unsteady, giggling. Meg clung to Ruby, holding her hand, but she also tucked herself behind Ruby a little, and held at her elbow with her other hand, like Ruby might up and blow away.

Dean looked away. They were being kinda cute and he wasn’t in the mood for it.

Sam was by the girls before Dean could get out of the car. Dean stalled by the passenger door while Cas stood just by Baby, drivers side door open, his hand holding the door.

“I should stay with Dean,” Cas said.

“Aww!” Meg pouted. She leaned in to Cas, kissing the tip of his nose. Dean was eternally grateful he had stayed his ass on this side of the car.

“You don’t gotta do that, Cas. I can handle this.” Dean said.

Cas turned, slowly.

Dean held his breath.

Cas was backlit by the harsh white of the laundromat, his face in shadows, and this golden glow radiating just around his head. Ruby and Meg flanked behind him, creating voids of light on either side of him. Dean felt time slow, like the moment of drag just before you slam into the rear end of the car in front of you and you know it’s going to happen and suddenly every fraction of a second feels like hours lazed away on some expensive beach, sipping wine and browning in the sun.

“I am coming with you, Dean Winchester.”

Sam coughed from somewhere behind Cas.

Dean breathed. He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Okay.”

 

Dean picked at a worn spot in the thigh of his jeans, his left foot tapping rhythmically against the floorboard. He tried to concentrate on the buildings they passed but shop front windows glowing with light from within, outside walls cast in shadow, and neon lights all washed together as a dull noise behind the thoughts he was trying hard not to think: mainly, how hurt he was that Baby was driving so well for Cas but also about Cas’s hands resting on, gripping, and guiding the steering wheel. 

Dean adjusted in his seat. Maybe Cas was paying attention to the road instead of Dean’s obvious boner. 

“Probably not.” Cas said, shocking Dean out of his thoughts.

“Wh- what?” Dean barely tamped down the panic that Cas had possibly been reading his mind just then and refused to acknowledge the swell of horror at the question building behind that thought that asked just how long Cas had been reading his mind.   
“You just looked deep in thought. Thought I’d answer whatever questions you were mulling over.” Cas shot him a look with the slightest smile dancing in that narrowing of his eyes. 

Dean pulled in a broken breath and laughed.    
“Are you alright?” Cas asked.    
Dean noticed Cas had slowed. He glanced around, realizing they were close to his apartment.  Dean nodded. He tucked a fist between his thighs as he shifted in his seat again. 

“Yeah.”

Cas pulled Baby to park, smoothly. She purred under his touch.  Dean dug the heel of his shoe a little roughly against the floorboard in response to her cheating ways. Baby fell silent. 

Dean sat, waiting. He wasn’t in any hurry to get out. He felt something in the air and didn’t want to lose this closeness with Cas. He ran his fingers through his hair. His fingers ghosting over his port, he pressed the outcord switch. He’d get a few seconds of Cas on his channel if he got nothing else out of tonight.

“So…” Dean began.

“Once, when I was nine,” Cas interrupted, “one of my older sisters dared me to swallow a goldfish whole. She said she’d do my chores for an entire week if I did it. Naomi wasn’t my favorite sibling so the idea of having her do my work was very… enticing. I had to ask my brother Gabe for one of his fish and, of course, he wanted to come watch. Within ten minutes, I had about fifteen of my siblings gathered around me as I held a cup half full of water and half full of goldfish.”

Cas glanced over at Dean. Dean waited, listening.

“I remember looking down at the fish swimming frantically against the sides of the cup. I remember wondering if it was afraid.” Cas paused in thought.   
“I remember wondering if I was afraid. But Naomi was standing there with her arms crossed and a mean grin. I remember looking her right in the eye as I turned the cup up and swallowed down the disgusting water.” He grimaced.

“I gagged when the fish hit my tongue. It filled my mouth in the most horrible way, flopping against my cheeks, and I remember thinking we were both terrified. I managed to swallow it down and even as it fought and writhed in my throat, I stood and glared at Naomi. There was this panic growing in my gut as the fish wriggled down toward my stomach but the cheering around me while Naomi stomped off was worth it.”

Dean focused on his breathing, keeping it steady. He watched Cas. 

Cas was running his fingertips over the steering wheel, absently. His hair was messed, his brow a little furrow of lines. Dean hated to admit it but he liked the look of Cas in Baby’s drivers seat. 

“The moment she was out of view, I vomited the fish back up. That was worse than swallowing it. I couldn’t swallow anything for a week after without it hurting. I just couldn’t… I couldn’t handle knowing it was alive and would be hitting my stomach acid. Everyone ran when I started spewing water up. Except Gabe. He stayed with me.” Cas gazed out the windshield at nothing in particular.    
“I thought I was going to choke at one point. I thought I was going to die trying to hack this fish up so it wouldn’t die. It felt like forever but it finally came up. It flew from my throat into the dirt. I fell down beside it, gasping for breath. I don’t know how long I laid there before Gabe told me the fish was dead.”

Dean felt his chest clench as he watched Cas’s eyes fill with tears. He glanced down at Cas’s hand where it had dropped in the seat between them. He almost reached for it but stopped himself. He looked back at Cas.

“It didn’t matter. A stupid bet to show up my sister and I’d killed it. It didn’t matter that I’d tried to save it. It died.”

Dean watched one tear fall down Cas’s cheek, followed quickly by another, and another.

“I laid there in the dirt with my throat on fire, a burning shame in my belly, and I cried.”

Cas hung his head, his chin nearly touching his chest, tears falling freely into his lap. Dean couldn’t help it. He reached out, gently enclosing Cas’s hand in his own. Cas squeezed Dean’s fingers.

“I just want you to understand how hard it was for me to watch you falling apart tonight. I drug you out of that hospital. I kept you safe in that cellar and I care about you, Dean. More than that stupid fucking fish, alright? So when I feel you struggling, I want to save you.” Cas looked up. 

Dean almost lost himself. He felt vulnerable whenever Cas caught his eye but this time Dean felt like Cas had opened himself up and Dean was gazing into the depths of heaven itself. Bright blue and tear glazed, honest and laid bare.  Cas squeezed Dean’s fingers again.

“Don’t fight me next time, okay?”

Dean felt a knot in his throat. He swallowed hard before nodding.   
“Okay,” he choked out, breathy. “Okay.”

Cas smiled, another tear tracking down his cheek and he laughed a little wiping it away. 

“We were supposed to be fixing Baby. I’m sorry.”   
“It’s okay.” Dean rubbed his thumb over the back of Cas’s hand. “Do you want to come in and wait for the others? You’ll need to walk home with Meg, right?”   
“Yeah. Yeah.” Cas nodded. “Meg.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, Meg. You know, the one who is probably fucking my brother and his girlfriend right now?”   
Cas wiped his sleeve across his eyes again.   
“I know.” He grinned. “Lucky her.”

“Oh, my God!” Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s it. I’m done. Are you coming in or what?”

Dean reached back running his fingers over his port. He looked back, though, and caught a fraction of a second of Cas watching him, like he’d just stumbled upon a litter of kittens and Dean was the runt before cracking into a grin and saying ‘Yeah. I’m coming.’   
Dean smiled. He switched the outcord off.


	7. Chapter 7

***

“No. No, no, no, no.” John pushed the dog out of his lap, it’s body twisting and folding in ways that made Dean’s stomach turn. John wiped his bloody hands absently on his bloodier shirt.  His eyes were wild, the kind of wild that would haunt Dean at night. “Where’s Sammy?” He turned on Dean while still shoving the dog away.

Dean snapped into the moment. He raised a finger toward the source of wailing. He couldn’t pull his eyes from the swath of blood covering the front of his father. 

“Get in the car.” 

Dean stood, his entire self rooted in the spot, focused on the small smudge of blood on his father’s cheek. 

“Dean! Get in the car! We have to go!”

***

 

“Look, Ash, I don’t know what else to tell you. He came inside and we boosted Little Becky until Sam got home with the girls. Then he left with Meg. That’s it.” Dean tossed another 24 case of drinks on the stack they were building at the end cap of the last aisle. He turned back to the empty pallet. Ash was propped on the handle of the jack, arms crossed, his eyes narrowed on Dean. 

Dean huffed. “I swear.”

Ash shook his head. “If that’s your story…” He leaned back, unlocking the jack, turned and tugged it easily behind him. Dean walked behind him, following him into the stockroom.

“That’s not just my story, man, that’s what happened.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Ash said, nodding. “Save your lies, Winchester. You stink of sex.”

Ash expertly guided and shoved the jack under another pallet of drinks. He sniffed at Dean as he jacked the pallet off the floor and comically scrunched his nose.

“That’s because I share my home with Sam and Ruby! You don’t even want to know what those two get up to with Meg. The entire place reeks of sin.” Dean made a gagging sound.   
Ash stopped cold, his eyes trained on Dean.   
“Oh, no, see, that? That, I am very interested in.” 

Dean scoffed. “No way.” 

Ash shrugged. He pulled at the pallet. Dean got behind the stack of drinks to push, or at least look like he was. Dean needed to look useful to stay in drinks and he prefered working with Ash. They drove the pallet into the drinks section to start filling space. 

“Well, well,” came a unwelcome drawl.  “If it isn’t Dean Winchester.”

A man dressed in dark jeans and a black button down stood right where Ash had been heading. He had his thumbs hooked through his front belt buckles, his arms angled at his side, his feet apart. It looked like he was aiming for casually cocky and only just missed. 

“Yeah?” Dean walked out from behind the pallet toward the man. 

“You’re the guy being an asshole to my little brother.”   
“Probably.” Dean shrugged.    
The guy laughed.   
“Who are you?” Dean asked as he glanced back to see Ash slowly backing away from them. 

“I’m the guy who’s gonna make you pay for what you did to Cy.”   
“Oh!” Dean slapped his palm to his forehead. “Cy! I should have known. Annoying twang should have gave it away. Which brother are you? Ellis? Noah?” 

The man shifted, moving one hand behind his back.   
“Jacob.” He sneered. 

“You need something?” Dean heard Benny from behind him. He kept his eyes on Jacob and silently thanked Ash. Dean wasn’t sure Ash would be much use in a fight but the man had brains and knew how to use them.

Benny came up beside Dean. He stood with one arm behind Dean, touching him tenderly at his lower back where Benny tapped his fingers very distinctly once and then again. Dean tensed. That was Benny’s ‘Get the fuck out of Dodge’ signal but Dean wasn’t sure how to safely leave this situation. 

Jacob looked between the two men, his lips curling into an ugly grin.   
“This is between me and Dean.” Jacob said.   
Benny took a step forward, slightly in front of Dean.   
“I am between you and Dean.” He countered.    
Jacob squinted at Benny. “Go suck a dick.”   
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Benny shrugged. “Or the last.”   
Jacob looked between Dean and Benny, his lips curling into a cruel grin.   
“Oh, I see.To get to you, Winchester, I have to go through your boyfriend.”

“We broke up.” Benny supplied, emotionless.   
Jacob laughed.   
“This keeps getting better and better.”  Jacob took a step forward. Benny stiffened and Dean prepared to fight.

“Sir! Can I help you?”   
Dean turned to see Sam, standing tall and broad and looking a lot scarier than normal. Sam, good old Sam, manager Sam, someone in a position of power Sam.

Jacob sized Sam up, glanced back to Benny and Dean and seemed to do some very uncomplicated math.    
“No, sir.” Jacob said smoothly. “I was just leaving.”   
“Yes. You were.” Sam replied.

Jacob walked past them to the front exit. He winked at Benny as he passed, smiled at Sam jovially, then raised his hand in the shape of a gun, aimed at Dean and pretended to fire. An involuntary shiver ran down Dean’s spine.

They watched as he sauntered out the front exit.

Sam turned to Dean.   
“Why don’t you go on home?”   
“What? No. Why?”   
Benny reached out to Dean, gently hooking a finger through the front belt loop of Dean’s jeans. “I think he’s right. You should go home. That’s enough excitement for one night.”   
Dean thought about resisting but he saw Ash propped on the pallet of drinks again. Ash nodded.

“Fine.” Dean said. “Fine. I’ll go.”

 

*

Dean fell back on the couch, annoyed. Fuck Jacob Styne. Fuck Cy Styne. Fuck the whole Styne family. Dean wondered if Jacob partycrashed and if he could hunt him down during the next party window. Maybe total their car and dislocate Jacob’s skull from his spine. 

He pulled out the box of boosts and aimlessly combed his fingers through the canisters. He held up Little Becky’s Day at the Beach. He dropped it with the memory of teen angst and pms. He grabbed the public channels boost. He hadn’t boosted from the public channels in months. 

He popped the lid and dropped the little metal cylinder into his palm. He laid down on the couch, tossing his legs over the armrest, lifted his head and slid the boost into his port. 

Instantly, Dean found himself scanning through events. One was some kids skateboarding.The source was hopped up on energy drinks, Dean could tell from the way everything looked super sharp in focus and the way the world seemed to buzz around him. Dean flipped right past it. Another was the view of a woman dancing on stage, the source was sitting low, looking up at her, and Dean knew he was watching a commercial for one of the local strip clubs. Next, a person jogging through the city park, the security light glaring as they passed under it. Dean could feel the headache pounding through the source. Why would they out cord a migraine to the public channels? Then, a party. The images flickered in his mind. He focused on the party, choosing it, and the boost opened to him completely. 

It kind of fucked with him, knowing boosts on the public channel were happening as he was watching them. Knowing the Source was out-cording as Dean was boosting it made him nervous. Anything could happen.  The public channels were largely unmonitored and relied on people behaving for the most part. That made Dean very nervous but a party? Dean could handle a party. 

Dean slid into the source like a second skin, the music thrumming in his chest, and a blur around the edges. Dean felt good. Dean felt more than good. Dean felt great.  The source felt great. This party felt good and life was great.

The source danced and Dean danced, his body moving easily. Dean could feel the pull of tendon and muscle. The source was lighter than him. Dean would call him wiry, even. He was lean and long and his clothes hung from his frame. He was sweating, Dean could feel moisture where his shirt clung to him, but it didn’t dampen his mood. The source raised his hand, bobbing his head with the beat, and Dean felt the rhythm pulsing through his veins. 

It was dark, mostly, with a blue hue of muted light misted over the crowd. Flashes of green and white shot through the air above them in coordination with the beat of the music. Dean closed his eyes as the source closed his and he felt the crowd sway, bodies surrounded him, moving, pressing, pulling, like they were each a tiny part of a single living organism. 

The source pulled in a breath, Dean reveled in the track, the distinct smell of too many bodies moving too much in too small an area. The source licked his lips and Dean tasted alcohol, something minty. He could still feel the warmth of it in his throat.

Dean felt a hand at his back, The source turned, a laugh erupting, bursting from his lips as he wrapped his arms around a woman. Dean looked down at her through the source’s eyes, an overwhelming joy pouring from the source, and for a moment Dean fell in love with her. He suddenly wanted to kiss her full cheeks, push her fancy framed glasses up into her hair and tilt her face up to his and kiss her but the source only pulled her close to dance and, with their bodies pressed together moving with the music, Dean couldn’t complain. 

When the song faded into another, she danced away and Dean could feel her absence. The source gave Dean ample time to watch her leave as she moved among the crowd. The source began to turn away, and out of the corner of his eye, Dean thought he saw Cas but the source focused on the DJ stage.

The source was so happy. Dean was so happy. Life felt good and he told himself Cas wouldn’t be at an event like this but then the source looked back, searching through the crowd, and Dean saw Cas. He knew it was Cas. It had to be Cas because the man had his arm wrapped around a tiny woman with dark hair that was definitely Meg. They were talking to a man who, even from this distance and through a boost, Dean could tell was trouble. Too pretty and too smooth, Meg would enjoy that one.

Dean’s heart lept into his throat. The Source glanced over them, still scanning the crowd but apparently not finding what he was looking for. When he looked back, Dean was gazing right into Cas’s eyes, across the room, sure, but Cas (it was Cas!) made eye contact with the source and held his attention. The source tilted his face up in invitation, Dean tilting up with him. Cas leaned down, whispering to Meg. She nodded. He kissed the top of her head and pulled away, making his way to the source. 

Dean could feel his heart pounding, beating hard enough to slam through his ribs, and he wondered briefly if that was just his heart or if the source was feeling it too. 

Cas had that effect.

Cas came up, just shorter than the source, his eyes cutting up through his lashes in a way that made him look mischievous and made Dean feel weak. Even in this dark and smokey lighting, Cas’s eyes were unnaturally blue and the grin he wore caused Dean’s heart to stutter.  Cas slid right up to him, matching his body to the source’s and they moved together perfectly.  

As they moved, Cas placed his hand on the sources chest, bringing a wave of panic in Dean completely removed from the rush of excitement in the source. The source reached, Dean reaching with him, and touched Cas’s side. Cas moved into the touch. The source moved his hand up Cas’s body, Dean feeling thrills, from himself, from the source, all along the way, until the source gently cupped Cas’s cheek. Cas’s ever present day old stubble was sharp on the source’s soft hands but Dean soaked it up, memorizing the feel of it, and he was overwhelmed again with the urge to kiss, with the need to kiss Cas. 

The music blared around them but Dean could hardly hear the track. The crowd moved but Dean could hardly see them. He was caught in Cas’s gaze, those eyes daring him. Dean felt the source moving, his body moving and it was dancing but they were too close together, Dean could feel the source growing thicker in his jeans as he and Cas moved together, nearing sex on the dance floor.  Then Cas’s hands were on his hips and Dean’s heart was racing, elated, and the source leaned in, Dean leaning with him. Cas tilted his face up, their bodies so close, Dean could feel Cas through the source’s clothes. Cas’s lips parted, his tongue licking at his lips, and as the source moved in, Cas moved up. Dean’s heart beat faster, faster, faster, faster, then the source closed his eyes and his lips were wet and-

 

Dean shot up from the couch, gasping, sweating, screaming. The room was spinning, his head felt heavy, and his cock was the hardest it had ever been in his life. 

Dean grabbed at his neck, fingers digging at his port. The public channel boost popped out. The little cylinder was hot in his hand. 

“Shit!” He threw the boost at the box on the floor. He heard it skid across the room. “Shit!”

His heart was still racing. Dean stumbled to his room. The clock read five hours till curfew. Dean went into the bathroom, stripping down, he started the shower running and tried desperately not to think about Cas at some club and how he, oh my god, how Dean almost kissed him and how badly he wanted to and how perfect it felt and…

Dean stepped into the water, praying it would calm him, but he lathered some soap in his hand, wrapped a sudsy fist around his cock, braced himself against the shower wall and jerked off with a passion he hadn’t had since he was 14 and got to second base with Rhonda Hurley the first time.


	8. Chapter 8

***

Dean stood, his entire self rooted in the spot, focused on the small smudge of blood on his father’s cheek. 

“Dean! Get in the car! We have to go!”

Dean didn’t remember how but he was back in the car, in his seat, buckled in with the same belt that dug into tender parts of him moments ago while trying to save his life.  He heard Sammy crying, still, but he didn’t- couldn’t- move to soothe him. It felt like it was happening to someone else when John threw the car into reverse, craned around in his seat to watch behind them, and swung the vehicle into a crude three point turn. 

Dean just stared at his father’s cheek, that smudge of blood.  It couldn’t be. It could not be but, Dean thought, it looked like a kiss print.

***

 

“How did I not see you?” The words danced around Dean as Cas appeared closer and closer to him until they were nearly touching. The lights flashed in the darkness surrounding them. They were alone on a vast dance floor. Dean barely breathed, afraid any sudden movement would vanish Cas from his presence. Cas began to laugh, tiny sun kissed cherubs ringing golden bells burst from his mouth to float around them. Dean smiled.

“I looked right into his eyes and I didn’t see you in there.” Cas said, but his mouth didn’t move, he only smiled as he began to dance closer to Dean. His body fitting against Dean’s perfectly. Dean sighed contentedly… but...

Mumbling.

Dean felt heavy, dark and hot but the voice, soft and steady, he held to it and tried to pull himself in that direction. The words blurred together, indistinct sounds, tones, as Dean dredged himself up. He was so heavy, it was so dark.

“It was just a night out.” Dean could hear Meg, she sounded far away. He fought against the weight pulling him down.

“We were talking to this guy, tall, impossibly green eyes- almost like Dean’s actually-” The sound of his name jolted Dean fully awake. He laid still with his eyes closed, resisting the urge to roll over and stretch. His body was so sore. He must have laid in the same position all day.

“-but his hands and arms were covered in these… scars. He was pretty and he had this hick accent but he talked about how he could tell me what I had for breakfast just by licking my pussy.” Meg went quiet. She drew in a deep breath.

Dean opened his eyes just a fraction. He could see Meg and Ruby sitting on the floor in front of his bedroom window. They were side by side, leaning back against the wall, facing him. Ruby was wrapped in Sam’s blanket. Meg already had her work uniform on.

“I liked him.” Meg shrugged. “Cas went off, he found someone that caught his eye, and me and this guy go to the bathroom. I was up on the sink counter and in seconds, he’s pushing my skirt up and his face is between my legs like he’s starving. He breathes deep then tells me about the corn chips me and Cas shared at the gas station before we got to the club. He did it again, kissing my thigh and told me about the pizza I had for lunch. He knew it was from Rita’s, even.”

“I couldn’t believe it, Ruby. I still thought it was just some kind of trick but he pressed his tongue to me and my whole body reacted like my nerves were all frayed. I could feel it hot in my belly and electric in my fingertips and toes. Then he told me about how he could taste Cas’s hands around my waist while we were in line for coffee that morning.”

“He licked his lips and told me about you. About the last time we were together. With his tongue at my clit, he mumbled how he could taste Sam in the room with us.” Meg shook a little. Ruby held her hand.

“He told me things he couldn’t have known. He said he could taste that I dropped out of school. He could taste my chemistry teacher on me. “ Meg’s voice got quiet.

“He could taste the baby.”

Dean’s heart broke. There was a silence that filled the room. Dean counted the seconds wishing he was anywhere but here, eavesdropping on Meg’s past but this was not the ideal moment to reveal himself awake.

“I was in tears but it felt so good, is that wrong?”  
Ruby shook her head. She used her thumb to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen down Meg’s cheek.

“Then, when I came, he coughed and came up pulling something from his mouth. It was this little plastic baby Jesus, like from a Nativity scene, dripping with saliva, and he had this crooked little grin and he said ‘Like the blessed Virgin Mary, you have birthed a child of God.’

Dean swallowed down the gag he felt itching at the back of his throat.  While the trick was disgusting, it was equally genius and he wondered vaguely where the guy bought the baby Jesus dolls.

“I laughed with tears streaming down my face. It felt like I’d been cleansed.”

Meg pulled the little doll from her front pocket. “Look, he gave it to me.”

She passed the little plastic toy off to Ruby who let it lay in the palm of her hand. Ruby looked at the doll, then to Meg, then the doll again. She lifted her hand up and kissed the little naked baby Jesus.

“Mmm,” Ruby closed her eyes in thought. “Tastes like pussy.”

Meg laughed. She leaned over to bump Ruby’s shoulder with her own.

“I love you,” Meg whispered. She leaned in and tenderly kissed Ruby.

“I love you, too.” Ruby said, blushing as she smiled. She wrapped her arm around Meg, hugging her close.  Dean pinched his eyes shut.  They were being cute again, damn it.

Dean smelled the coffee seconds before Cas walked in with it. Dean made a show of “waking up” by stretching, yawning, and feigning surprise at finding Meg and Ruby cuddled up together in his room as Cas entered.

“Morning, Dean,” Cas smiled warmly.

Dean wasn’t prepared for the next moment, the one where Cas met his gaze and Dean had vivid memories of the night before, like he had been the one dancing with Cas, holding him, touching him, kissing him, doing whatever else with him. His mind provided the images in crystal clear high definition, memories flooded his body, and it began to respond. Without his permission. In front of Cas. And Cas’s girlfriend. And Sam’s girlfriend. Who were also girlfriends?

He needed out.

“I need to piss.” Dean said, gathering the sheet around him.  If this response surprised Cas, he didn’t show it.  Dean shuffled past him to the bathroom. He pushed the door shut the moment he got inside and ended up leaving half of his sheet out in his room. Whatever, He needed a moment.

As he used the facilities, Dean heard the muffled conversation of the others through the bathroom door.  He took a few moments to gather himself, breathe deep, splash some water on his face, then he wrapped back up in the portion of the sheet that made it into the room with him and opened the door again.

Cas, Meg and Ruby were all where he left them, sitting casually discussing the night before. Dean shuffled across the room to sit on the bed beside Cas. He carefully looked anywhere but at Cas.

Meg stood as Dean sat, pushing herself up from the floor, detangling herself from Ruby. “I need to get ready for work.” She said. She stepped lightly across to Cas, leaned down to place her hands on his thighs, then kissed him tenderly. “I’ll see you in the morning, Clarence.”

Cas nodded and, in the same movement, brought his hand to rest on the sheet covering Dean’s thigh.  Meg turned to leave. Dean noticed she had a little extra pep in her step this evening. Oh, the baby Jesus. Of course.

He saw Ruby stand, too. Her eyes flitting between him and Cas before she sighed. She collected the two coffee cups sitting on the floor in front of her and left almost quickly enough to appease Dean.

Cas was quiet beside Dean, his hand warm on Dean’s thigh. Dean tried desperately not to think of the party, the source, the lights, Cas, his body up against the source’s, up against Dean’s. He wasn’t doing well not thinking about it.

Dean cleared his throat.  
“Do you want to boost?”

Cas looked at him softly.  
“With you? Ofcourse.”

*

It was Little Becky. Dean chose an old boost of hers. She was 7 and the entire boost is just her wandering through an empty grocery store, vague music playing over the speakers, the lighting perfectly hazed, while she sampled bites of fresh fruit and vegetables straight from the displays.

It wasn’t Dean’s favorite boost but there was something beautiful about the way the fruits tasted in Little Becky’s mouth. The Mango tasted like the purest mango, a taste he couldn’t recreate in real life no matter how fresh the mango he purchased or how it was prepared. The watermelon so juicy and sweet. And there is such an innocence to Little Becky, alone in a store, joyfully popping plump grapes into her mouth.

Dean disconnected when Little Becky got to the pomegranate . He hated those. Something about them seemed grotesque. Maybe it was the way Little Becky would use her little fingers to dig out individual sacs of juice, the red bursting onto her fingers and lips as she ate. It was nearly gory. 

He rolled over to find Cas beside him, sound asleep. It looked like he had never even connected to the boost.  Dean was thankful they had decided to boost in his bed.  He laid on his side, just admiring Cas. The man was truly beautiful and Dean would never tire of basking in his beauty. Cas was laying on his back, one arm reached out to Dean, his face turned slightly toward Dean, snoring gently. Dean wondered, just for a moment, how he would fit against Cas. He wondered if Cas would mind it even.

Slowly, carefully, Dean slid himself into the space beside Cas, laying his head gently on Cas’s chest and wrapping one arm around him. He stiffened momentarily as Cas moved in his sleep, bringing his arm in and around Dean. He continued to breathe sleep’s shallow breaths and Dean relaxed into his hold.

Cas smelled clean, like hospital clean, and he was warm and Dean felt safe. As he lay, listening to Cas’s heartbeat, Dean faded into a deep and restful sleep. 


	9. Chapter 9

***

Good Night, Listeners! It’s Tina Something with Graphic Traffic and we open the show with an incident on Hemrose Street. Witnesses say a single vehicle traveling at 58 mps struck an animal in the road. Witnesses say the animal was large, easily over 120 pounds, with blond hair. Witnesses say a man and two children were in the vehicle. Witnesses say the animal died while the driver of the vehicle held it. Witnesses say the driver and the children left the scene quickly after. They were in a black Impala, the hood splattered with blood. Any tips should be directed to the Nighttime police department.

***

 

ThumpUmp ThumpUmp ThumUmp.

Dean woke slowly, the steady rhythm of the waves lapping at the beach. He was laying on his side, half of him pressing into the warm, soft sand, the other half bathed in sunlight, a warm breeze tickling across his exposed skin. Dean hummed in pleasure. Beside him, the sand began to shift, rising and falling to form small hills and valleys until it was vaguely cradling Dean, the rhythm of the waves pulsing from somewhere under the rise of sand where his head lay. 

Dean became aware of faint voices coming from the other end of the beach. He relaxed into the sand around him, pressing into the rises that met his body. 

“...haven’t been able to boost today.”

“Me, either. It’s like my port is….”

ThumpUmp ThumpUmp ThumpUmp

“It’s probably just a glitch. Maybe the scrambler from the club down the street is turned up too high.”

“Cas, I was at work…”

Cas. Dean smiled, a happy sound bubbling up from his lips.

“How long has he been like this?”

“A few hours. We were boosting when my port… I disconnected and woke up like this.”

“I hate to admit how cute he is when he’s sleeping.”

“You better take care of him.”

Dean listened intently. The sand around him shifted again and he was laying in his bed, cuddled up next to Cas, his head on Cas’s chest still. He heard the deep rumbled answer “I will,” as his eyes fluttered open. He began to stretch, a pleasant smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Cas said, the words a sweet caress.

“Hey,” Dean smiled.

“Sam and Ruby are here.” 

Dean paused for a moment, processing what Cas had said. He finally looked away from Cas to where his brother and Ruby were standing beside the bed looking down on them. Ruby was wearing a very satisfied smirk.

Dean moved to pull away but Cas held him close. 

“It’s okay, Dean.” Cas soothed.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “It’s okay.”

Yeah, Dean thought.

It is okay.

 

***

Good night, Listeners! It’s Tina Something with Graphic Traffic with another update on the multi vehicle pile up at the intersection of Campbell and Smith. It appears to be four different groups all heading out for separate family picnics. Witnesses say there are four to five people per vehicle out in the intersection throwing sandwich triangles, cubes of fruit, and potato salad at each other.  More as this story develops. 

***

 

Family picnic night, also known as the absolute worse theme for party crashing but also Ruby’s absolute favorite so they had spent weeks preparing the clunker Ruby had bought at an auction especially to drive on this night.

Ruby went all out for family picnic night. She drilled holes in the roof of the car so she could anchor the plaid picnic cloth across the roof. She had a basket centered on the cloth, anchored in place as well, and, just for shits and giggles, she had a few rows of fake flowers around the edges of the picnic cloth. It looked atrocious but Ruby loved it.

Family picnic night was the one time Dean didn’t drive. He refused on basis of morality. 

“It’s fucking immoral to drive a car that’s dressed up as a picnic,” He’d said. So Ruby drives. Sam rides front passenger and, tonight, Meg, Cas, and Dean were in the back.

Dean couldn’t complain. He really couldn’t. Meg had insisted Cas sit between her and Dean. Even though it must have been uncomfortable for Cas, Dean was thankful. Since that night Dean had fallen asleep cuddling Cas, he had craved more. He craved his warmth, the feel of his breath as his chest rose and fell, the steady comforting beat of his heart. Dean craved Cas and now, finally, after a week of work schedules keeping them apart, Dean got to ride an entire game window pressed side by side with him. Dean really couldn’t complain and yet, “Ruby, do you plan on driving like a stoned grandma the entire time or is this some kind of technique you’re using to get tagged as much as possible?”

“God damn it, Dean, shut the fuck up.” Ruby shot back.

“Four o’clock, Ruby!” Sam called. Ruby cranked the steering wheel left as she sped around a corner away from an El Camino that had a table and four chairs anchored in the bed, complete with picnic cloth and an entire place setting for four. She wasn’t quick enough and Meg called “ Seven! Seven!” seconds before a hard tag on their bumper. 

“One! One! One!” Cas called as a spitfire green Prius with a sad picnic basket bungeed to the roof barrelled into them head on.

Ruby groaned.

“What the actual god damned mother fucking shit faced fuck kind of move was that?!” Dean yelled. He fought with his seat belt for a second and reached for the handle of his door. Cas’s mind seemed to have stalled with the engine but it was quickly catching up and he reached out for Dean just a fraction too late. Dean was out the door, screaming at the people pouring out from the other car. 

Milking the pulse was an honored tradition of Party Crashing. Typically Dean loved that momentary rush of Being Alive after a particularly hard tag and dragging it out by a public display of friendly warfare between teams was a welcome moment of game play. Dean would have normally greeted the showering of food (or rice on a wedding night, monopoly money and game pieces on board games night, popcorn on cult movie night, and water balloons on sweet childhood summers night) with equal joy, returning shots on the other team with snacks Meg and Ruby had prepared the night before. 

Tonight apparently wasn’t a milking the pulse kind of night. Cas scrambled out of the car, Meg, Sam, and Ruby just behind him. Dean was already confronting the other team, who were all smiles, gleefully tossing tiny square burgers at Dean, while Dean screamed obscenities at them.

“Dean!” Sam called after him as he raced behind Cas to close the space between them and Dean.

“Dean! Stop!”

Cas lunged forward, desperately grasping at the empty air fractions of a second after Dean threw a punch into the laughing,unsuspecting face of a member of the other team. His buddy wasn’t going to stand for that and punched Dean directly in the jaw. Before Cas knew what was happening, Dean, Sam, Meg and Ruby were all throwing punches into the other group. Cas found himself in the middle of an all out brawl.

“Stop!” he screamed. “Stop this, now!” He tried desperately to push people apart only to find himself shoved to the ground. Cas pushed himself up from the ground, leveled his sights on Dean who was straddling a short, stocky man with black hair while he pummeled his face. Cas ran at him, tackling Dean, knocking him off the man and rolling with him. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean, holding him tight. “Dean! Dean! You have to stop! You have to stop!”

 

Good night, Listeners! It’s Tina Something with Graphic Traffic. There’s a two car collision that has erupted into a fight in the middle of the road. There appears to be no injuries from the collision but witnesses say people from both vehicles look pretty beat up. More as the story unfolds….

 

Cas collapsed into the passenger seat. 

“Alright,” he said. “They aren’t going to report the multiple fouls.”

Sam sighed in relief from the back seat. He had his arm resting across the top of the back seat, Ruby cradled into his side, Meg snuggled up to Ruby. His hand laid tenderly on Meg’s shoulder. Meg had gotten in a few good punches and Ruby had taken one that was sure to leave her with a black eye. Sam’s hair was hardly ruffled but his knuckles were bruising and one was busted, bleeding as he pressed it firmly into his jeans.

Dean’s pretty face was still just as pretty even bruised and swollen.

“How’d you manage that?” Dean asked.

Cas turned an icy glare on Dean. “I told them we would fix their car. They’re bringing it by my place after the party window.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel.

“Fine. I’ll help.”

“Damn right, you will.” Cas said.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rab·id  
> ˈrabəd,ˈrābəd  
> adjective  
> 1\. having or proceeding from an extreme or fanatical support of or belief in something.  
> "the show's small but rabid fan base"  
> synonyms: extreme, fanatical, overzealous, extremist, maniacal, passionate, fervent, overkeen, diehard, uncompromising, illiberal; informal gung-ho, foaming at the mouth  
> "her rabid anti-immigration views"  
> 2\. (of an animal) affected with rabies.  
> synonyms: rabies-infected, mad, hydrophobic  
> "a rabid dog"

********

"How did I not see you?" He sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

As he watched, the animal blurred, like a track threaded through moonshine, and Dean worked to bring it back into focus. He saw a flash of reds and blues across the blurry midsection of the dog then Dean’s mind shuddered to a halt when he saw the blur turn it’s head, slightly, toward his father.   _ Oh, no. It’s still alive. _

John quieted, inclining his face toward the blur. Dean watched as the blur began to clear. The dog's eyes were wrong, somehow, too close together on its face, its muzzle too short, its nose too pink, its lips too... It had lips? It raised it's strange face and  gently nuzzled its nose against John’s cheek, its impossible lips moving slightly.

“What?” John asked. The lips stretched into a tired smile, moving again briefly before twisting into an unimaginable pucker onto John's cheek. John’s eyes widened. “No.” Dean watched the animal fade back into a blur as it fell to rest against his father, sigh, then go still.

“No. No, no, no, no.”

********

 

If he kept this up, Dean was going to lose his job.  
  
Another week spent in the cooler, stocking yogurt and milk, hidden from view as his face recovered from family picnic night. At least he had Charlie, who, at the moment, was humming Fugees ‘Killing me softly with his song’ while she sorted bags of shredded cheese by date.  
Charlie was sweet and really fun to talk to when work was sparse, even though she was utterly obsessed with this serial boost Dungeons and Thrones. Dean had tried it but he’d never really gotten the point of boosting something scripted. Dungeons and Thrones had a huge cult following and a massive sinkhole full of plot that Dean wasn’t keen on wading through just to be able to have a conversation with Charlie.   
  
The alarm went off on his watch, signaling the end of Nighttime shift. Thankfully, Sam had the night off. He and Ruby were probably sharing boosts from their channels of their time together with Meg. Dean’s skin kind of crawled thinking about it. He moved to get Charlie’s attention.  
  
“Hey!” He spoke just louder than the refrigeration system hummed.  
  
Charlie smiled when she looked at him.  
  
“Shift’s over. Let’s go.”  
  
“Alright, big bro.” She bounced along beside him and together they exited the cooler.  
  
“How're things with Glenda?” He asked, hanging up his pullover on the Nighttime hook.  
  
Charlie rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it. She won’t even leave her toothbrush over at my place. But! I did get a hold of this really fun boost the other day! It’s basically reading a comic, right? But you’re seeing the comic sourced through the artist as they are creating each page! It’s really amazing.”  
  
Dean smiled and nodded. “That sounds really cool,” He lied. He couldn’t imagine enjoying the agony of being hunched over a desk for hours, muscles aching as the source drew painstaking detail after painstaking detail of a story in little boxes. And weren’t artists always starving, anyway? He hated a boost where the source was hungry. There was absolutely no way to rethread a boost to dull the ache of hunger pains.  
  
Charlie shrugged out of her jacket and hung it beside Dean’s.   
  
“Did you hear about Deanna? From Health and Beauty?” They turned down the employee hallway to clock out.  
  
“No,” Dean feigned disinterest but no one, absolutely no one, liked Deanna from Health and Beauty and Dean was absolutely ready to hear any gossip about her.  
  
Charlie dropped her voice to a whisper, “She got rabies.”  
  
“What?! You’re joking.”  
  
“Nope,” Charlie swiped her employee card to clock out. Dean swiped his as well.  
  
“She’s, like, the eighth person from this store,” Dean said.  
  
“I know. And you know Daytime fired Garth from Produce, right?”  
  
“No! Garth?”  
  
“Yep. Apparently, he was licking the fruit as he stocked it. The gross fucker tested positive, too.”  
  
Dean shook his head. Garth was such a kind guy. He couldn’t imagine it.  
  
“Do you think he knew?”  
  
Charlie looked at Dean incredulously. “No, Dean. He just took a sudden interest in quality testing the fruit meant for Daytime. Jesus, of course, he knew. He had to have.”  
  
Ugh. Dean felt his stomach roll as they walked past the produce section and he thought about the apple he’d had with his meal at 2 am. He’d bought it there at the store. He shuddered.  
  
“Do you think we should get tested?”  
  
“God no! Anyone showing up at the clinics even just to ask questions, much less get tested, are being quarantined. My grandma is on Daytime, you know, and she called to tell me that they’re getting pretty nervous about it. Apparently, it’s being called an official outbreak.”  
  
“An outbreak? Of rabies? How does it even spread.”  
  
“Bats, I think.” Charlie led Dean through the automatic doors into the parking lot. She slowed to a halt. “Hold up.”  
  
Dean looked up from his phone where he had pulled up a search about rabies. His screen had filled with information about how it spread and also with headlines about outbreaks across the country in split cities, particularly among Nighttime people. It hadn’t been a week since the first reported infection and now? He stopped just behind Charlie.  
  
The parking lot was crawling with Nighttime cops.   
  
“What the …”  
  
“Dean, I don’t like this.”  
  
Dean shook his head, bewildered.  
  
“It’s only two hours till curfew,” the cop standing nearest them warned. “You two better get on home. This morning the Daytime officers will be out checking to make sure all Nighttimers are safely off the streets.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean answered. “Okay.” He still didn’t fully understand. Safely off the streets? What was happening?  
  
Charlie glanced nervously at her watch. “Do you think you could drive me home?”  
  
Dean could sense the fear in her voice.  
  
“Sure. Yeah.” He replied, turning away from the officer and leading Charlie to his car.  
  
********

Goodnight, Listeners! It’s Tina Something with Graphic Traffic. We close the show this morning with an incident on 4th Street South. Witnesses report a woman running from a place of business, screaming. Witnesses say she ran out into traffic causing a multi-vehicle accident. The woman is reported to be at the hospital receiving treatment for minor injuries. There were no other injuries. This is Tina Something with Graphic Traffic reminding you to mind the curfew and tune in tonight!

********

After dropping Charlie off, Dean headed straight to Cas’s place. He didn’t know exactly what was going to happen at curfew alarm but he really wanted to be inside when whatever it was actually happened.

Cas’s apartment had a garage. How he managed that, Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to ask, But there was an attached garage with a little piece of shit Prius with the front end damn near crushed beyond repair sitting there leaking black fluid into a puddle in a metal pan sitting on the concrete floor.   
  
Shit.  
  
Dean knew how to fix cars but this? This was beyond his scope of skill. He wondered vaguely if they could scrap it and just buy the team another car to replace it when Cas came in behind him.   
  
“Do you hear that?” Cas was carrying a flashlight and wearing a worried expression.   
  
After another flash of panic that Cas really maybe could hear his thoughts, Dean said, “There’s no way you heard-”  
  
“Shh!”  
  
He fell silent. Cas was walking the perimeter of the garage, shining his light in every nook and cranny he passed, peering intently where the beam of light would hit.   
Dean stopped wondering wildly and finally listened. He could hear the faintest scuffling sound. It wasn’t coming from anywhere in particular that he could tell, it was just a slight noise, the sounds of something small caught somewhere smaller.  
  
Dean watched as Cas stepped carefully around where a pallet lay leaned against the wall. He positioned the flashlight to peer into the enclosed space created by the pallet and wall. Dean lifted his hand to the back of his neck, starting to outcord, knowing the first few seconds would be glorious. He saw Cas, a glow of light caressing the curves and angles of his downturned face, brow furrowed in concentration, lids pulled tight around his eyes in a squint that made precious crow lines bloom above his jaw bones, his really lovely jaw bones, that somehow accentuated every tiny detail that Dean loved about Castiel’s face from his half styled half bed head hair to his strong brow and those piercing eyes to those lips that looked so soft, so warm, so inviting…  
  
“...Dean?”Cas repeated for the third time. Dean snapped back to reality with a little shake of his head. ‘ I said, can you come look at this?”  
  
“Yeah… Yeah, I can.” He said, again grateful Cas couldn’t, _surely he couldn’t_ , read his thoughts.  
  
He slid beside Cas, his body pressing slightly into Cas as he leaned to peer where Cas had the light focused in the tiny corner formed by the pallet and the wall, then he heard it again, the slightest shuffling of confinement and fear, as he saw the tiny frame of a baby bird huddled in what was a dark, safe corner that was now awash with scary bright light.  
  
“Turn it off,” He whispered, gently touching his fingers to Cas’s side. Cas looked doubtful but obeyed. “It fell from somewhere. We need to find the nest.”  
  
Cas nodded. As Cas wandered, peering into the crevices near the ceiling, Dean knelt down onto the cold, hard cement to crawl slightly into the makeshift cave. He reached out, slowly, carefully placing his fingers around the tiny bird and gathering it into his hands. It was fluttering stiffly and he swore he could feel it’s tiny heart thrumming.   
  
“It’s over here,” Cas called.  
  
Dean slowly extracted himself from the small space, tiny life in tow, and stood to face Cas. The way Cas’s face melted, seeing Dean with his hands held to his chest, shoulders huddled around the small, terrified heartbeat with wings, was enough to make Dean thankful he was outcording. The bird flitted about in his hands as he carried it to the nest just above the chest of drawers Cas was using as a tool box. As he reached up, gently placing the bird into the nest, he felt hands, Cas’s hands, on his side, warm against his skin and he turned carefully toward Cas as he lowered his arms, Cas’s hands sliding around his waist, his fingers dancing lightly across Dean’s tummy and as he came down, Cas moved up until their lips pressed together in the sweetest, most delicate kiss Dean had ever experienced.  
  
Cas smiled up at Dean, just the fraction difference in their height enough to give Dean a perfect view of Cas’s wide, softened eyes warmed by the blush growing in the cheeks under them. Dean had never seen anyone or anything so breathtakingly beautiful.   
  
Cas reached out, his hand gentle and warm against Dean’s cheek. Dean closed his eyes. He leaned into the touch. This was what he wanted. This was what he’d wanted since the night he’d boosted the party and danced with Cas through a source. This was what he’d wanted since the night he’d spent cuddled up next to Cas, breathing his scent, basking in his warmth, cradled in his hold. Cas caressed Dean’s cheek. Slowly, his thumb stroked across Dean’s lower lip, continuing across his jaw into his hair and finally coming to a rest just above Dean’s port. Cas tisked as he nimbly switched Dean’s outcord off.  
  
“If you want to do this again, you’ll have to do it with me.” Cas smiled. He turned deftly, catching Dean’s hand and leading him out of the basement, up the stairs, and into the main level of the apartment. 


	11. Chapter 11

********

“No. No, no, no, no.” John pushed at the bleeding shifting form, shoving it out of his lap, it’s blurred body twisting and folding in ways that made Dean’s stomach turn. John wiped his bloody hands absently on his bloodier shirt.  His eyes were wild, the kind of wild that would haunt Dean at night. “Where’s Sammy?”

********

 

Dean was afraid to open his eyes.  Everything… everything was so perfect and glorious, if he opened his eyes he might find that it wasn’t real. 

But it felt, oh god, it felt real. 

Dean didn’t know what he expected when they got to the top of the steps but to be ushered to the couch and out of his pants wasn’t his first expectation. It all kind of blurred together, between bouts of sweet, hungry kisses and exploring fingers pulling at his clothes, warm palms pressing against his skin, Dean felt overwhelmed by Cas. By Cas’s lips at his neck, those hands at his back, his chest against his, wow, when did Cas even take off his shirt? It was all moving so quickly and he relaxed into it and moved with Cas so to find himself nude on Cas’s couch, head back, and eyes closed with Cas knelt between his legs shouldn’t have been so shocking and yet, Dean was afraid to open his eyes because it may not be real.

But, oh my god, it felt real.

He felt Cas’s hand creep up his abdomen, his chest, to his neck and gently caress, a tender gesture bidding him to the present. Dean turned his face down to where Cas knelt and forced himself to look.

It was Cas, stunning Cas, shirtless with just his stupid blue tie loose around his neck with his beautiful face upturned to Dean, those blue eyes glistening with pleasure and excitement as he licked his lips before pulling them into a sexy as fuck grin.

“Hey,” Cas’s voice was a rushing river over rocks, his voice typically gravelly had deepened subtly in arousal. “Are you still with me? Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” He kept talking and the wheels in Dean’s brain spun helplessly trying to keep up but they were stuck on that ‘Hey’ and those eyes and…

“Please, don’t stop,” Dean breathed. He placed his hand tenderly against Cas’s cheek, gently stroking his fingers back and through his hair.

Dean watched this time as Cas wrapped his lips around Dean’s cock, pulling him into his mouth. Dean hummed with pleasure as a kindle of electricity spread across the nerves of his dick through his entire body. He had never felt anything like it and he gasped another moan.

Cas felt like fire erupting between his legs and everything, everything was too much. From the warm moist void of Cas’s mouth, all tongue and cheek and him not giving an inch for Dean’s dick to breathe, that continual feeling of being consumed, taken in, again, again, and the electricity fired through his nerves again, again, again and Dean felt the entire universe stop in place.  A clear, crystal clear, beautiful, moment of clarity where he looked down on Cas, mouth hungry around his pulsing cock, eyes glistening with tears, cheeks and shoulders ablaze with want and Dean knew this was it. This was the most perfect moment of his entire life. It was Little Becky’s toes in the sand as the waves crashed, salty wind in her hair. It was Little Becky resting happily on the beach as the sun warmed her skin. This was it. This was Dean’s real life Little Becky moment and the entirety of the universe had stopped to gaze upon its perfection.

He could weep.

He kept his gaze focused on Cas as he came, tears streaming down his face as he came, and he came, and the current shot through him again and again as he came and he felt Cas swallowing, gagging, swallowing as he came. He licked at a tear as it rolled down his lips and the salt of it was the nail in his coffin. He crumbled, completely overwhelmed, completely taken, completely Cas’s.

“Whoah, whoah,” Cas said, bringing himself to sit beside Dean. He took Dean into his arms, Dean’s face pressed into his chest as he sobbed. Cas held him. Cas made soothing shushing sounds. Cas rubbed his back. 

Carefully, he led Dean to the bed.

“Meg?” Dean managed through his tears.

“It’s okay, She’s probably with Ruby. They spend the Daytime together a lot.” Cas assured him.

Dean melted into the bed and Cas lay next to him and wrapped his arms around him. Dean’s breathing was slowing but still ragged as he tried to gather himself and relax at the same time.

“I’m going to tell you a story,” Cas spoke from cuddled behind him. “It might be fictitious, it may be real, you’ll have to decide.”

“The story goes that years ago some people accidentally discovered how to travel through time. They were supposed to be running tests and experiments about traffic flow when they discovered members of the research party disappearing after staged crashes. These people would turn up later, aged greatly, telling tales of how they had been transported in time, five, ten, fifty years back.”

“The story goes that these people, the ones staging crashes to gauge traffic flow, these people reported their findings and that’s why we have the Daytime/ Nighttime split. But, they didn’t report the bit about time travel because… who would believe them? So, even after the split, these people kept staging crashes in an effort to get sent back. ‘Reverse Pioneering’ they called it. Going back to a time with less people, more land, no reason to be trapped living without the sun. But someone went back and didn’t show up aged. Then another attempt resulted in a fire, killing everyone inside both vehicles. Then the government found out about it.”

“That’s why we all have ports now. It has nothing to do with entertainment or usefulness. It’s about control. While we are all boosting and outcording, they’re sending out a signal to scramble our brains so we can’t reverse pioneer.  It’s just to control us. But the Party Crashers know. We know, with every bump, sideswipe, and rear end collision we could get spirited back in time if it weren’t for ….”

Dean’s breathing had slowed and calmed. His body was relaxed and he sounded like he was asleep. Cas curled up to him, gently kissing Dean’s port. Even mostly asleep, Dean felt the tickle of electricity dance through the nerves at the back of his neck where Cas’s lips pressed to his port.

“I love you,” Cas murmured into Dean’s back.

“I love you, too,” Dean replied before falling asleep.

********

Dean was in the backseat of the Impala. The rumble of the engine, the vibration of the road beneath her wheels a lullaby he refused to heed. He stared out the window focused on the fading sunlight on the buildings as they passed.

The song on the radio faded out, replaced by Tina Something.

"The I-SEE-U recruitment program is well underway for positions available on the Nighttime schedule. Benefits for Nighttime include: guaranteed housing, health care, and job placement as well as free educational resources and child care.

"The city is expecting one-fourth of the population to be transitioned to Nighttime by the end of the year. The five year plan is to have the city split evenly between Day and Night. Contact your local representative for more informa-"

 

Dean swirled and was suddenly in the front seat, Sam by his side. Sam with his shaggy blonde hair tucked neatly behind his ears, a slight glow about him accenting the plaid of his shirt. He turned in slow motion, a nonsense wind from nowhere blowing his hair like he was some model trying to sell shampoo. His hazel eyes met Dean’s and Dean watched as Sam broke out in the happiest smile. Time surged forward, fast forward, to where Dean hardly noticed the truck before it slammed into them head-on. Then time slammed back into slow motion as Dean flung forward in his seat but his seatbelt didn’t catch him. He continued to roll forward, unrestricted, the car dissolving around him until he landed in the soft center of Cas’s couch, naked, with Cas gazing longingly and lustfully up at him. Dean leaned down, kissing Cas, gathering him up in his arms, till he felt that spark surge through him. Dean called out, suddenly underwater, his voice growing into a speech bubble and erupting from his mouth complete with comic sans text. Cas was with him, in his arms still, and yet he was fuzzy, like a track lost in translation, Cas began to pixelate, his body breaking apart into a cloud of blocky colors. Dean swept wildly at them, trying to gather them, but he didn’t need to. Every tiny pixel was gravitating toward him, riding the current and as each one touched his skin, he felt that tingle of electricity as his skin absorbed them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of gore involving children.

********

It was silent and he was slumped into his own lap. Dean’s head felt heavy and his ears rang. He looked over to Sammy, thankfully strapped into his seat, kicking his legs, lips spread wide, eyes squinched, face red. Dean recognized his screaming without hearing it and then recognized the clawing in his own throat as screams as well. 

He felt the car move, saw John climbing out of the front seat, scrambling to get to the front of the car. Dean unbuckled himself, pushing bags of clothes that had flown everywhere out of his way. He ran his hands over Sammy, fingers touching every little spot he could reach, He could feel his lips shushing even though he still couldn’t hear himself. Satisfied Sammy wasn’t harmed, Dean twisted to see his father out the front windshield but John wasn’t there.

Dean panicked. He climbed into the front passenger seat, the muscles in his legs and back already shooting with pain, he propped his hands on the dash, leaning forward to peer through the windshield but he still couldn’t see John.  What he could see was red, bright red, splattered and shining against the hood of the car.  Dean pulled the handle, knocked opened the door and jumped. 

His heart was pounding in his ears. He found his father sitting on the ground in front of the car with his back leaning against the front bumper where it was cracked and dented in at the spot where the spray of red had erupted. Dean stumbled, his legs suddenly heavy. He sat on the road watching his father cradle a large man. He was broad and long with blond hair and there was blood everywhere.

All at once, Dean could hear everything crystal clear. Sam was still wailing in the backseat. John held the man in his lap with his arms hugging him close to his chest. John was crying, repeating, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you. How did I not see you? I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s mind shuddered to a halt when the man turned his face, slightly, toward his father and slowly melted, like wax down a candle, into a blurry, formless, shaggy, dog shaped blob. 

********

Dean shot up in bed, covered in sweat. What the actual fuck? He glanced around, looking for anything to orient himself. Fucking angels everywhere. Meg’s idea of interior decoration. Cas’s apartment. Okay. Cas’s apartment. Cas’s apartment? 

The morning’s events flooded back to him. The little shit Prius that he and Cas totally didn’t even touch. The baby bird. The kiss. Oh, God. Dean absently touched at his port where a faint tickle still burned at his nerves. He felt a sudden flood of happiness, just pure contentment and joy nearly oozed out of him. Cas had held him. Cas had kissed him. Cas had worked holy magical wonders on him and Dean had witnessed the face of God. And he had… oh, no. He had cried. A lot. Dean fell back onto the bed, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face into the pillow. Fuck. No wonder Cas wasn’t in bed with him. Dean had been a gigantic baby and, he realized, in absolute horror, he hadn’t given Cas anything in return.

As he lay in mortal anguish, Dean could hear the gentle murmur of voices in the next room.  It was Cas, his smooth soothing voice carrying an even tone of comfort and assured sanity, and Meg, quietly losing her fucking mind. Jesus, Dean wasn’t ready for this. Everything he had seen of Meg and Cas’s relationship told him that Meg wouldn’t be bothered in the slightest by the events of this morning but here in the evening light listening to her hushed panicked tone, Dean found himself not only embarrassed for how he behaved earlier with Cas but also a little terrified of a confrontation with Meg.

Dean carefully climbed out of bed, wiggling into a pair of Cas’s boxers he found on the floor. Cas was stockier than him so he needed to roll the waistband down once to keep them from slipping off. He tiptoed to the bathroom, used the facilities, splashed a little water on his face, then stared at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look any different to himself, except for how bloodshot his eyes were, maybe. He took a deep breath. You can do this, he thought. 

He exited the bathroom, quietly, and moved toward the living room where the voices were. He steadied himself. He deserved whatever wrath Meg had for him, honestly, for how badly he wanted Cas. For the way he pursued him. For the way he purposefully found himself alone with him today. Dean had wanted it and, aside from feeling like a fool for crying, he really didn’t regret it happening. He cherished it. Just the thought brought back a rush of emotions, feelings, tingles at the ends of his nerves. No, he didn’t regret a moment of it and yet he was going to have to apologize to Meg.

Ugh, this is going to suck.

He walked into the room with as much confidence as he could muster, which wasn’t as much as he’d have liked. Instantly, his mood changed from fear to abject horror, worry blooming in his chest for Meg who was sitting on the couch with Cas, her left hand wrapped in white gauze that had a tiny petal of red seeping through where three of her fingers should have been but seemed to no longer be. Tears streamed down her face as she turned to Dean, a distinct lack of surprise or anger present, only pain in her eyes.

“What happened?” Dean gasped as he moved to kneel on the floor beside where Cas sat on the couch facing Meg. 

Meg let out a shuddering sob. 

“I had to tell them that I cut my own fingers off,” She cried.

Between Meg and Cas, Dean got the whole story and, afterward, he wished he’d stayed hidden in bed instead, maybe for the rest of his life. 

According to Meg, she went to work last night at the Nightcare center for 3 to 5-year-olds. She said the shift was like any other, except one kid was behaving super strangely and had a pretty high fever. The director had called the kid’s parents to no avail. They couldn’t get a hold of any of his emergency contacts but none of them thought it could be rabies, Meg had said.

According to Cas, the rabies epidemic had the Daytime folks petrified. It was still quarantined to Nighttime but he saw on the news how the police were patrolling the streets on either side of each curfew alarm to make sure no Nighttimers are breaking curfew. Anyone who shows up even asking questions about rabies is locked in quarantine and hasn’t been seen again.

According to Meg, it was only an hour until pickup time for the kids, two hours till curfew, when she had the children gathered for Circle Time in the main play room. She said they were playing a simple game where everyone was clapping and singing to some stupid kids song when the kid, David, comes out from the director’s office with his eyes wide, red, and drool cascading down his chin. 

According to Cas, rabies typically presents in humans with flu-like symptoms. Fever, headache, tiredness, achy muscles, nausea. Typically it’s discovered before it progresses to the later stages which display more like young David.  Frothing at the mouth, bloodshot eyes, irrational aggression. Typically, he says.

According to Meg, David comes barreling out of the director’s office at the circle of children and throws himself upon one little girl, Amber, a petite 3 year old complete with pigtails and a dress where the skirt hit a little too high on her thighs. Amber went down screaming and the other children scattered toward the walls. Meg was so shocked, she just watched as David tore at the little girl with his hands and teeth. Meg was so shocked, she couldn’t respond until she saw the blood fountain from Amber’s neck while her tiny legs continued to kick from under David. 

According to Cas, this must have been fucking awful to witness. 

According to Meg, it was. She sprung forward, finally, trying to pry David off the little girl and she screamed, she said, for the director to come help. “Please, David is rabid!” she yelled as she gripped the child’s shoulders and pulled back, hauling him off the little girl. He tried to lunge from her, toward one of the other children. Meg said she reacted instinctively. She said she wrapped her arms around David and pinned him to her chest. 

According to Cas, this is why she’s wearing scrubs from the hospital. Apparently when you show up covered in what you are adamant is your own blood from where you swear that you sliced your own fingers off, a nice nurse will sometimes give you a change of clothes to wear home. So the curfew police don’t see you covered in blood on the streets walking home and decide to quarantine you, just in case.

According to Meg, She didn’t know how flexible David was. Who could expect a 4-year-old, pinned back against her chest, could angle his slobbery mouth down to where her hands gripped each other to hold him? Who would expect a child, even one who just ate the fucking neck out of another child that was, as Meg described, slowly bleeding out on the floor in front of her, to fucking bite her mother fucking fingers off her god damned hand?

According to Cas, Meg should have seen this coming.

According to Meg, Cas can fuck off.

According to Meg, she panicked and released David when he bit her. She fell to the floor, clutching her hand to her chest, screaming when the director finally emerged from the reception area with a rifle. 

According to Meg, she panicked, her feet slipping in Amber’s blood pooling around her, as she tried to get to her feet and move away from David. She didn’t need to, though. David was running toward the Director. Meg said she tried to motion the other children out of the room, outside, but everything happened so fast. She said she couldn’t tear her eyes away from David, running at the Director, and the Director stood aiming the rifle square at the child. 

According to Cas, holy fucking shit.

According to Meg, It wasn’t nearly as gory as she had expected. She said she expected David’s head to explode but in reality all it did was blow the back off his skull, splattering everyone in the room with blood and brains and tiny fragments of skull. As the children’s screams began to fade out, the director turned his rifle on Amber in her puddle of red on the floor, her feet still twitching, and fired again. 

According to Meg, She wrapped her hand in her bloody shirt, hiding the injury, turned and ran from the building as shots echoed in the room behind her along with a cacophony of renewed screams.

According to Cas, the news stated that the director shot every child at the Nightcare center before turning the gun on himself when cops showed up. The news reported that the director told the cops he was afraid David’s blood had infected all the children. The news reported that the director stated that he did the right thing. The news reported that the director died moments later. The news didn’t release any statements contradicting that the director did the right thing.

According to Meg, she ran from the building into traffic, causing a minor incident that she heard later reported on Graphic Traffic. She ran to the hospital, ducking around police patrols, still hiding her injury. Once she arrived at the hospital, she found one of the nurses that knew Cas. She begged for treatment.  She swore the injury was self-inflicted. She swore she’d taken a knife to herself, butchered her fingers herself because she was exploring body modification. She swore it was a self-modification gone wrong due to inexperience. Thankfully, she said, the nurse bought it.

According to Meg, she stayed hidden at the hospital through Daytime, cleaning her wounds and changing her bandages while cramped in a janitor closet. She hid and before curfew the Daytime nurse brought her a set of scrubs to wear home. She didn’t want Meg picked up for suspected rabies, Meg said.

“I know I’ve got it. I’ve got rabies.” She said. Her hands shook as she spoke. “But, I don’t want to die.” She gave Cas a level stare. He nodded. 

“You're not going to. Not if I can help it,” he replied.

 Cas got up, touching Dean on the shoulder. Dean patted Meg’s knee as he stood to follow Cas. Meg sat resolutely, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

 “Dean, we might need to leave the city. There was talk of the entire city being put on lockdown until the rabies epidemic is controlled. If Meg has it, which I’m sure she does, they’ll kill her. We have to get her out of the city. We have to get out before they can.” Cas spoke in a forcefully hushed tone.

 “Okay, Cas, but if the city is on lockdown how the fuck are we supposed to get out?” Dean whispered back.

 “Party Window tomorrow night. What is it? Hawaiian theme. We’ll use the party as a distraction. While everyone is watching all the party crashing, we’ll slip out into the country.” He looked back at Meg. “We’ve got to do this,” he said, reaching out to Dean, threading his fingers with Dean’s. “We need to save her,” he said.

“Alright,” Dean sighed. “But I’m going to get Sam and Ruby.”

 “Please do,” Cas nodded.


	13. Chapter 13

********

“Dad?”

 

“Dad?”

 

 Dean looked back at the blood.

********

 

Dean was in a daze during the entire walk home. He left Baby with Cas in case he and Meg needed to get away quick. As he walked, he kept reliving the events as Meg described them. Then that image of her sitting there, wearing scrubs, clutching her wounded hand to her chest as a tiny bloom of blood crept through the bandages.

Meg had rabies.

Meg had rabies.

Meg had-

He realized he was inside his apartment, staring at Ruby bundled up on the couch. She looked like hell, or something dragged up from hell, wrapped in Sam’s comforter.

“Ruby?”

Ruby sniffled. “Hey, Dean. Where have you been? Sam went to work. I think I’m dying.”

Dean stood frozen in place.

Ruby looked him over worriedly.

“I’m joking, jerk. It’s just a cold. I haven’t had a summer cold in years.”

“A cold?” The wheels were spinning in Dean’s head, trying to find traction, trying to find anything that didn’t have Cas’s voice murmuring in the back of his mind about how rabies presents with flu-like symptoms at first.

“Yeah, it’s just a cold.” Ruby stared at him. “Are you going to work tonight? Sam said you’re on the sched-” She paused to cough, waving her hand at Dean in a you-know-what-I’m-saying kind of way.

Dean carefully took a single step back away from Ruby and towards the front door.

“Look, I don’t care if you go or not but, if you go, do you mind returning this?” She motioned at the coffee table where a boost lay on it’s side, gently rocking from side to side. “I don’t know what’s going on but I haven’t been able to boost since before Picnic night.”

Before Picnic night? Dean flipped through a million memories. Picnic night seemed like hundreds of years ago. Hell, this morning seemed like a century or two in the past. He finally pulled up a vague memory, one of him snuggled up to Cas, sleeping, listening to Sam and Ruby talk about boost-

They were talking about how they couldn’t boost.

Dean stumbled another step back.

“What is wrong with you?” Ruby demanded. “And where have you been?”

Dean held up his hand to Ruby, effectively shushing her. He tried to remember what everyone was doing before that day they found him snuggled up with Cas. What was Meg doing? What was-

He remembered Ruby kissing a little plastic Jesus she held cradled in her hands as Meg giggled tearfully beside her.

Oh FUCK.

Dean remembered boosting the party. He thought of Meg talking with that guy. The guy Meg said ate her out and found a little Jesus. The Jesus Ruby kissed before she kissed Meg.

Dean heard Cas’s voice niggling at the back of his mind saying rabies spreads through bodily fluids.

Meg and Ruby. Ruby and-

Sam.

Dean stumbled back onto one of the stools in the kitchen.

Sam and Ruby were talking to Cas about how they couldn’t boost.

Sam.

Was it hot in the apartment?

Meg had rabies. Meg had rabies and Ruby had rabies. Ruby had rabies and Sam had rabies.

Sam had rabies.

Dean finally focused his eyes, pulling himself from his mind and into the present.

“I have to go.” He said before bolting from his seat and running out the door.

He didn’t even hear Ruby call out to him about the boost he’d left behind, still swaying side to side on the table in front of her.

 

********

Good evening, Listeners, it’s Tina Something with your top of the hour Graphic Traffic report. We aren’t seeing any vehicle incidents but the hospitals are reporting an unusual rise in biting attacks and rabies infections. Be sure to swing by a health clinic if you think you may have been infected. Keep your eyes open for police as they patrol the streets and remember to mind the curfew!

********

 

When Dean ran, nothing could catch him. Except, of course, the intense worry and agony that comes along with knowing that someone you love has rabies and knowing that the government wants to quarantine them until they are dead. He ran through the entire city to the Supermart, through produce past a flushed faced employee who was twitching as she stocked apples into the displays. He ran past aisles of employees all stocking foodstuff onto the shelves, each employee looking less well than the one before.

Dean ran to the very back, to the manager’s office where he found Sam tapping at a computer at the loss prevention desk. A wall of monitors displayed every inch of the store before him in low definition grayscale.

He was gasping for breath, bent over in front of a very worried looking Sam.

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal that you’re late.” Sam offered in confusion.

Dean gasped another shallow breath.

“Dude,” He rasped. “Ruby…. Ruby’s got…. rabies.”

“What?”

“Dean collapsed into the rolling chair beside Sam.

Through ragged breaths, he quickly explained about Meg and how her morning went, leaving her short 3 fingers and carrying an extra helping of rabies. Then he cut to Ruby snuggled on their couch, sniffling about her summer cold and how her port won’t boost.

“Wait,” Sam interrupted. “What does this have to do with Meg?”

“Meg didn’t catch rabies this morning. She already had it! Remember the party she and Cas went to? She caught it there from some guy. Then she kissed Ruby. And today, Ruby has a cold. Cas said it looks like the flu at first. Ruby and Meg have rabies and they’ve had it for a while. At least a few weeks.”

Sam sat back in his chair, slack-jawed.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely.”

Sam just sat, processing. Dean couldn’t handle waiting for him to make the leap of thought.

“Sammy…. Sam, if Ruby has it…. Because Meg has it….If Ruby has it…and she can't boost....” He tried.

“I…. I can't boost." Sam supplied. "I have rabies.”

“Yeah.”

Dean watched as Sam mentally ran through hundreds of scenarios in seconds.

“Cas has a plan to save Meg and I know we can get you and Ruby out, too, without the cops seeing you. Cas says if we can get out of the city and into the country, we can stay out of quarantine and, I don’t know, get a cure or something.”

“A cure _or something_?” Sam sputtered in disbelief.

“Listen, it’s got to be better than sitting in quarantine till you die!”

“Dean, I just don’t think you’ve actually thought this through. If we need to be quarantined, that’s probably for the best. I mean, on a risk scale, we’re safer with doctors than witho… Dean?” Sam turned to watch the monitor Dean’s eyes were focused on, a look of complete horror on his face.

Dean had been watching the monitor as Sam spoke, watching a group of huddled employees gravitate slowly down an aisle towards a singular employee stocking the endcap. He knew Benny when he saw him, even in poor quality greyscale viewed from the ceiling. The group descended upon Benny as Dean watched. Sam turned in time to witness the dark spurts of liquid spraying into the air and pooling on the floor around the group. One person from the pack turned her face to the camera, a gray foam blurring her already pixelated mouth.

Sam got up, grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him away from the screens, from the office and out the back loading entrance into the parking lot.


End file.
